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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692231">Arachnikid- A Saga</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennsepticeye/pseuds/Jennsepticeye'>Jennsepticeye</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Arachnikid: Radioactive Disaster [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Punisher (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(rating/warnings updated for chapter nine), Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Arachnikid, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Daughter Relationship, Frankie Stevens, Frankie doesn't get blipped, Gen, Hallucinogens, Hurt/Comfort, I talk about the MCU in this, Nightmares, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Platonic Cuddling, Psychotropic Drugs, References to Drugs, Spidersona, and i remembered my spidersona, author completely fucks the cannon timeline and hopes y'all don't notice, except the character is enby, i rewatched spiderverse, so father-kid relationships, so they're 22 when Peter is 16, this is just a shameless self insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:40:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennsepticeye/pseuds/Jennsepticeye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When I was in HS I wrote 10k words about my glow-in-the-dark spidersona meeting various characters.<br/>All you need to know is that they live on a version of Earth-616 (Earth-668 specifically), they have two dads, and I think they're really cool<br/>~*~<br/>Let’s start from the beginning… again.<br/>My name is Frankie Stevens. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and well, I haven’t been Arachnikid for very long and you definitely don’t know the rest. I lost my girlfriend, saved the city, and met a surprising number of Spider-Men, almost all of them named Peter Parker. But that’s barely scraping the surface, so let’s get to work.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frankie Stevens | Arachnikid &amp; Everyone, Frankie Stevens | Arachnikid &amp; Frank Castle, Original Character(s) &amp; Everyone, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Arachnikid: Radioactive Disaster [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Origin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I NOW HAVE ART!!!<br/>I drew it myself, so if you want a good cannon look at Frankie here are those links!</p><p>https://mirko-simp.tumblr.com/post/636440842287136768/heres-another-arachnikid-piece-i-did-that-im </p><p>https://mirko-simp.tumblr.com/post/636440504540807168/so-heres-my-spidersona-arachnikid-you-can-read</p><p>https://mirko-simp.tumblr.com/post/636410403411394560/i-drew-the-top-one-back-in-2018-and-the-bottom-one</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frankie </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> parkour, free running to be specific. The showy flips and jumps, the ache in their lungs, and the complete faith they have that their body will do what they need it to do, when it needs to do it. It’s exhilarating and allows them access to some of the most incredible views in New York City, and the abandoned buildings no one dared go near. Not to mention the sheer amount of Urbex someone could do in the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So yeah, Frankie also </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> Urbex. It’s fascinating to look at a dilapidated shell of a building and imagine what it used to be, well lit and filled with life and people. Even corporate buildings have personality before, and after, they die. Not to mention the smile on Paige’s face when she sees the pictures, tongue sticking out as she translates pixels into pencil lines that have their own form of warmth. Her fingers are always smudged with graphite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie pauses at the edge of a roof, wind tugging at their hood and teasing the notion of pushing them right off the edge. They take a deep breath and… jump. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Air. Fire escape. Up. Ledge. Flip. Air. Land. Vault. Jump. Air. Grab. Pull. Drop.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They end up slowing to a stop on top of one of Oscorp’s research facilities. The company shut it down without warning sometime last year, but had condemned it instead of selling it off to the highest bidder. It really is prime real estate, so it’s a wonder they haven’t sold it for the land. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie enters through a maintenance panel. It’s dark but their eyes soon adjust and shapes take form in the darkness. It really had been shut down out of nowhere. Files and laptops are open on the tables. Coffee mugs have evaporated to nothing and lab mice have been mummified, forgotten. Gross.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie pulls out their phone, snapping a few pictures. Paige would really love these.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dust kicks up in small clouds under their feet. Curious chemicals and organisms have caused all sorts of things to grow across the walls and floors and counters, taking advantage of their abandonment to thrive. Frankie avoids them and makes a note to bring a particle mask next time they come by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, there are still a few emergency lights on, giving some rooms an ominous green glow. Flies and gnats make themselves at home in puddles of water, the pipes had probably burst at some point. Urbex is always dangerous. Crimes attract cops, sure, but water damage and mold are also something to be wary of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In one room is a wall of storage containers with glass windows, giving off a strange blue glow. The glass is foggy or frosted or something, impossible to see through, but Frankie knows that Paige will love the challenge of color and lighting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of nowhere there’s a sharp stinging pain on their scalp. They cuss and swat at the top of their head. Something crunches under their fingers, and a sizable spider falls to the ground, legs curled up in death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross.” They say aloud. “Never mind, fuck Oscorp, I’m out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They tuck their phone away and start making their way back out of the building. It’s getting late, and they’re too tired to make it back on foot. One in the morning finds Frankie half asleep on the subway back to Brooklyn Arts &amp; Tech boarding school. By one-thirty they’re climbing the fire escape and back into their room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie likes to joke that the best part of being non-binary in boarding school is that they get a single, no roommate to speak of. Of course, it might have been nice to have someone there when Frankie’s nose starts bleeding and they pass out on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie feels like death warmed over when they wake up. Not only is the floor incredibly uncomfortable but their head is </span>
  <em>
    <span>pounding. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Frankie has dealt with overstimulation before, but this takes the cake. The light is too bright, and everything is too bright. Courtney is blow drying her hair next door, and her roommate has the hiccups. Markus is belting show tunes again, which should be the first clue that something is wrong, because Markus lives on the floor below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie’s skin feels grimy, hair greasy and blood dried on their face. Dried sweat makes their clothes stick uncomfortably and everything ached like they’d been run over by a truck.  It’s a miracle they woke up on time for class.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every inch of their body screams in protest as they stand, peeling off the sweaty workout gear and pulling on a mostly clean uniform. They’re desperately hoping that clean clothes and deodorant is enough to mask the smell of BO. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At seven-fifteen sharp there’s a knock at the door, just like every morning. Despite expecting it, Frankie startles, dropping the bottle of painkillers and spilling them all over the floor. Against their better judgement they snag two off the ground and leave the rest for Future-Frankie to deal with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be right out!” They call through a mouth of toothpaste. The action makes their head pound worse, and they rush to finish brushing and take the painkillers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie opens the door a minute later, rumpled, but dressed, and with a dark pair of sunglasses to keep out the light until the painkillers kick in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like shit, babe.” Paige remarks. “How late were you out last night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only like one, promise. I just fell asleep without changing and woke up with a headache.” Paige is a worry-wart by nature, so unless they feel even worse, Frankie isn’t going to tell her a thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure you’re okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure, just sore. Nothing more than usual. Besides, just wait until you see the pics I got.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Let’s get to breakfast. I’m starving and it’s funnel cake day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You read my mind, sunshine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankie! These are incredible!” Paige gapes, holding the phone close to her face. “How did you even get in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Access panel for the HVAC. There was some cool shit in there, I’ll have to go back sometime. Maybe take you along?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paige laughs. As cool as urbex is to Frankie, Paige prefers to view it from the other side of a screen, too many bugs and creepy shit for her tastes. But her smile is bright and wonderful, so Frankie can’t help but lean in and kiss her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then something weird happens, the first of many weird things that would happen to Frankie in the next few days. An electric jolt shoots up their spine. </span>
  <b>Danger! </b>
  <span>Without even comprehending it, they move, narrowly avoiding another student’s tray. Paige on the other hand, is not so lucky, getting a lap full of nasty looking oatmeal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Oh Jesus.” The other kid is babbling apologies and trying to clean up the mess of his breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t even worry about it, Luke. It’ll wash out. I’m fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Frankie’s not even paying attention, mind reeling trying to come up with an explanation for what had just happened. It’s like they had known that something bad was going to happen and their body just </span>
  <em>
    <span>moved. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankie?” Paige waves her hand in front of their face. They must have spaced out. “You sure that you’re okay to go to class?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie nods, putting on a smile. “Yeah, just out of it I guess. Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, just my pride is injured. I’m gonna go change. I’ll see you in class.” She kisses Frankie on the nose as a goodbye and ducks out of the cafeteria. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For Frankie, the day just gets progressively stranger. The “jolt” happens several more times throughout the day. Once keeps a kid from accidentally knocking them down the stairs, another keeps them from banging their head on their desk, and another just before their shoulder strap breaks and their bag drops on their foot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>PE is even weirder. Frankie is really fit as-is, because freerunning is a whole body workout. They’re fit, but not necessarily fit in the ways required for flag football. Their reflexes are sharp, but not so fast that they should be able to catch the ball that rocketed over their head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything that happens just puts Frankie more on edge, and by the time classes are over there’s nothing they want more than a run.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should take a break once in a while, babe. You’re going to hurt yourself” Paige says, watching as Frankie pulls on their knee braces. It’s free time now, dinner is over and there’s a good four hours before lights out. Technically they’re not supposed to leave campus, but Frankie has long since figured out how to escape without being caught.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright sweetheart. Tomorrow, I promise. It’s supposed to snow and then get real sunny in a few days, and it’ll make for some great pictures.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” Paige smiles, shoving them playfully. “Get going you dumb jock, and be safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nerd.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Frankie is off campus they’ve planned a route and sent it to Paige. It’s a good safety practice in case they fall or twist something. There’s no finish line this time. The route is just a huge loop to relax and clear their head of all the weird shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They jump from one roof to the next, vaulting and flipping and bouncing around the inconsistencies of NYC rooftops. It’s exactly what they need, the focus and strain keeping their thoughts far away from weird spiders and being able to hear through floors. It’s going great, until it isn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t fall, don’t hurt themselves, but they certainly haven’t escaped the weird shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The plan is to land on the railing around the roof of a mid-rise apartment building and flip off of it onto the gravel roof. Frankie lands without issue, but then, as they push off into the flip, there’s a loud creaking noise and another strange </span>
  <em>
    <span>jolt </span>
  </em>
  <span>up their spine. Frankie fumbles the landing and scrapes their hands on the gravel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something is seriously up, because when Frankie looks back at the railing, it’s bent, which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because it’s a solid flat steel bar and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>crumpled. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They can even see where their feet had made contact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie catches their breath and makes it back down to street level. Maybe if they just get some sleep, things will be normal in the morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things are not normal in the morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie had taken out their contacts after their shower last night. They’re sure of it, and they even poke themselves trying to make sure, but somehow their vision is clear. It’s even clearer than when they are wearing lenses. They can see every detail of every tapestry on their walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just to check, they put on their glasses. Sure enough, the world goes blurry. But there’s no way. No way their prescription had changed over night. Nearsightedness doesn’t just fix itself like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock knock knock</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re looking better today.” Paige greets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie laughs, closing the door and falling into step beside their girlfriend. “Thanks for noticing, sunshine. Did your skirt survive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, washed right out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Paige. You aced anatomy right?” They ask, changing the topic abruptly, like usual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, full marks. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eyesight takes time to change right? I’m not stupid, so like glasses perscriptions don’t change out of nowhere save for injury.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Where is this coming from?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie takes a deep breath. “This is gonna sound downright </span>
  <em>
    <span>bonkers, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but I think my eyesight cured itself overnight. I’m not wearing my contacts and my vision is </span>
  <em>
    <span>clear.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paige stops walking. “Don’t you bullshit me, Stevens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise I’m not. I don’t lie to you, Paige. You know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paige points down the hall to a poster, leagues farther than Frankie can normally see. “What does that say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Use of cell phones, smart watches, wireless earbuds, and other electronics are prohibited during class. No exceptions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah, that is super weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re telling me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an earthquake that day, not dangerously powerful, but noticeable. It shakes the entire city in the middle of chemistry. Frankie feels it coming a whole minute in advance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie goes back home over the weekend, as they usually do. Their Dad and Pa greet them with enthusiasm and good food before their dad has to get to his shift at the station</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t mention any of the strangeness that has followed them since visiting Oscorp. They don’t know why, but suddenly it’s like a new secret. It’s the same weird tension they carried around before they came out of the closet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They finally put the pieces together that Sunday, watching videos on YouTube late into the night. Spiderman bending steel and catching cars. Spiderman dodging a blow he couldn’t have seen. Frankie’s hand sticking to their mouse as Spiderman clung to a smooth pane of glass. Somehow, Frankie had gotten the same powers as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spiderman, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it stands to reason that they were caused by that spider in the Oscorp building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They have to go back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie sneaks out that same night. No fancy tricks, just point A to point B. They bee-line  across town to the research center, and across the moldy floors to the glowing blue room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just as creepy as before, abandoned and frozen in time. But after everything, Frankie’s luck has run out. The glowing blue room where they had been bitten by the spider is shut. Locked and sealed with quarantine tape, with none of the dust that characterized every other room in the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscorp knowsl</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie groans, so frustrated that they turn on a dime and put their hand through the plaster of the adjacent wall. Locked behind two inches of steel is all the information they need to figure out what the hell is happening to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie goes back to school on Monday and pretends that nothing is wrong. They lie through their teeth to play off every time something breaks under their increased strength, or their hands stick to any number of things. They ignore the little jolts of warning and take a tumble down the stairs for their trouble. They repress the full blown panic attack they have when they realize they’re glowing with bioluminescence early one morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The earthquakes also continue, originating from Manhattan, the tremors shake the entire city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie is exhausted from constantly being on edge and holding the crumbling facade of “fine” together. They don’t tell Paige, can’t, because she doesn’t need that stress on top of school. Normal is hard to come by in NYC, and Paige deserves normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shouldn’t happen. It’s a freak accident and it shouldn’t happen, but it does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midland Circle collapses while Paige is walking back to her house from the grocery store. She dies, sixteen years old, body broken beneath the rubble of a battle she wasn’t part of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would be so easy to turn around and pin the blame on the Defenders. It would be so easy to be angry at them, for blowing up the building, for not clearing the area. But in the end, it’s not their fault. There’s nothing anyone could have done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a gaping hole in Frankie’s chest. It opens when Paige’s mother calls. Frankie cries and grieves in their dads’ arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They almost don't go to the funeral. It’s a closed casket affair and Paige’s parents hug Frankie and wish them well. Frankie says that they’re sorry for their loss, but can’t seem to make themself cry for the entire service.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later they heave into the funeral home toilet, but nothing comes up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie gets really sick of being sad. They don’t want to think about Paige and the empty space she left behind. They don’t want to think about the ache in their chest that isn’t real. And suddenly it clicks. Frankie understands why Spiderman does what he does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t set out to become some sort of superhero, but with some trial and error, a lot of sleepless nights, and some clever reverse engineering, suddenly there’s a new vigilante swinging through Brooklyn with a spider on their chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They couldn’t save Paige, couldn’t fill that hole in their chest, but they can keep other people from feeling the same empty chasm of loss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Arach-apocalypse: Brooklyn’s New Wall Crawler</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Last week we were introduced to New York City’s newest danger beacon. Sighted in Brooklyn, this new masked menace bears startling resemblance to Spiderman, both in appearance and ability. The people of NYC are left to wonder how much trust we can have for the new nameless, faceless arachnid…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie’s life is falling apart under their feet, like the rotten floorboards of the old hospital in Harlem. Their grades are plummeting and they’re always tired. Too many times they fall asleep in class or during AcaDec practice. Energy drinks can only do so much when patrol keeps them out far later than freerunning ever did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But they’re managing (they’re not). Everything is fine (It’s falling apart).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Frankie Stevens to the main office please. Frankie Stevens to the main office.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole cafeteria stares as Frankie stands and heads to the office. Everyone knows them now and not for good reasons. Frankie Stevens, the kid whose girlfriend died.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The principal, Dr. Grant, looks up when Frankie walks in, eyes obscured behind thick lenses. “Stevens, how are you?” She asks</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m doing fine, ma’am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Grant sighs. “Look, I’ve called you in here because I’m concerned. For the last year you’ve kept a consistent ninety-five percent grade average. Lately, it’s really been slipping, and at this point you’re averaging about seventy-four percent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie stares at their shoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know Paige meant the world to you, and I can’t imagine how much you’re dealing with, but… Frankie, you know your scholarship and enrollment at this school comes with certain requirements, not to mention your position as Decathlon coach. You’re a brilliant student, Stevens, and I want everyone at my school to succeed. But you understand that I’m at a bit of a loss here. If you don’t get your grade average above eighty-five, I’m going to have to make a phone call that I really don’t want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand, ma’am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve got counselors and tutors if you think that would help, and my door is always open if you have other suggestions. If there’s anything I can do to help you, please tell me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie sighs, hands in their pockets. “I understand, Dr. Grant.” They say before walking out of the office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Frankie, is there anything you want to tell us?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Real subtle, dad.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you want to explain why we got a call from the school the other day because you’re missing morning classes every other day, or you’re falling asleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t answer, moving their food around their plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please Frankie” Pa says “We know things have been tough lately, we just want to do everything we can to help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sigh, pushing their chair back and standing. “I’m fine. Sorry to worry you, I’ll sort my shit. Don’t worry.” They take their plate to the sink and retreat to their room without another word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie knows they need to get their shit together, but they’re being pulled in every direction. Brooklyn needs Arachnikid, but the Decathlon team needs their coach, and their dads need Frankie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ll figure it out. They’ll find a way to manage being a person and a superhero.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being Arachnikid is a lot like being back in the closet. Frankie once again has this whole other part of themself that no one knows about. Some people know Arachnikid, and some know Frankie. No one really knows the whole person. The same could be said for being in the closet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some people knew Frankie, loud and funny and happy, and some knew Francis, quiet and scared sometimes. In the end, the only person who knew both had been Paige. Paige knew Frankie inside and out, complete and flawed and </span>
  <em>
    <span>real. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maybe their relationship wouldn’t have lasted forever, but what they had was pretty grand while they had it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d worn the mask of Francis for a long time, a content, confident young woman. But all that mask did was conceal Frankie, confused and scared underneath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid wears a mask for a lot of reasons. To muffle the overwhelming loudness of the city, to keep their family safe, and so no one can see how scared they are. Because Frankie </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>scared, terrified even, but being Arachnikid is worth it. Arachnikid is a side of themself that they want to hold onto and keep, same as Frankie.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Arachnid meets Spider</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frankie has heard the stories, seen the videos, and even read a little bit of the Bugle’s sorry excuse for journalism. Spiderman is cool as shit, even if he doesn’t seem to understand color theory or that baggy clothes are a freerunner’s worst enemy. Frankie has never met Spiderman, on account of him being a Queens boy, and them being a Brooklyn kid, but there’s no denying that he’s incredible,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Frankie gets bit, suddenly they’re living a speed run on life. The Accords get proposed, the Avengers break up like a boyband, Spiderman gets a suit upgrade, Midland Circle collapses, and Paige… well, Paige dies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After being bit Frankie understands </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spiderman does what he does, just not why. They don’t understand that part until after Midland circle. It's not anyone's fault, but they don’t wish that grief on anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Frankie reverse engineers some web fluid, puts on a mask, and slaps a spider on their chest. If this is what it takes to keep other people from feeling the pain of loss, then it’s what they’re going to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They try their best to be smart about it, making their patrol schedule random and not limiting it to just Brooklyn. They drop by The Bronx, Manhattan, Staten Island, and occasionally, Queens (though not often, to avoid stepping on Spiderman’s toes).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But even then, Frankie’s not that surprised when they run into him in some back alley one night. They’ve just finished webbing up a mugger when a voice speaks from above, sounding far too young to be God.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! He was mine!” Spiderman pouts, perched on the roof to survey the scene. Arachnikid confirms the guy is secure before scaling the fire escape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spiderman! Nice to meet you!” They say, holding out a hand. Spiderman doesn’t take it, posture tense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And who are you supposed to be?” He sounds young, maybe even younger than Arachnikid, and he’s nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They tuck their hands into their pockets. “Just another kid who got bit by a weird Oscorp spider that was probably radioactive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spiderman huffs. “But what’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Bugle insists on calling me the “Menace of Brooklyn,” but I’m pretty fond of Arachnikid. If you don’t mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arachnikid? You sure you’re not gonna regret that once you’re older?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They scoff. “I can see you smiling under that mask, Queens. Gender neutral hero names are hard to come by. If you got a better one I’m glad to hear it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what, you got bit, realized you could do what I can, and decided heroism was your new career?” Spiderman asks, sounding defensive, tone changes on a time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ask that of every hero you meet? Or am I just special? Either way it’s kind of rude Spiderboy. No, I do this cause I lost someone, someone I loved. I couldn’t save her, but I can keep other people from feeling that loss. Satisfied?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lenses of his suit widen and he raises his hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry man. I didn’t mean it that way. I’ve just never met another person like me, ya know? You threw me off my rhythm.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nudges Arachnikid, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>get it?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sigh, shaking their head. “Really? You thought John Mulaney references were the best way to de-escalate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did it work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid throws up their hands. “I guess!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fantastic. Physical confrontations? No big, but self advocacy? I’d rather fight Captain America again.” Spiderman says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it was nice meeting you Mr.I-don’t-understand-color-theory, but I gotta jet. See you around!” Frankie says, aiming a web at the adjacent building</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha ha. You’ll see it my way when you have to clean it!” Spiderman says, barely audible over the wind because they have already jumped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid is cold, </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’ve literally never been colder in their entire life. Their fingers and toes had gone numb just ten minutes into patrol, and at some point, they had stopped shivering, which is probably a really bad sign. Especially since they nearly eat shit when they land on the rooftop next to Spiderman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah, dude! Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To be honest, no. Something has been vaguely wrong since October. Frankie has been way colder than what is normal. But it was fine, they just switched to thermal tights and a snug sweater, and kept at it. Then winter came and sneakers got swapped with heavy ice queen boots, and the warmest jacket they could buy, zipped over everything. Still, it’s apparently not enough and they are cold. Probably hypothermia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m good.” They lie. “How’s Queens?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty good. Are you sure? You aren’t looking too good ‘Rachnid” Spidey asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie barely hears him. A visceral exhaustion has settled deep in their bones, and there’s very little they want to do but curl up and sleep. Definitely hypothermia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spidey’s masked eyes widen. “Oh shit! I can’t believe I forgot!” He yells, grabbing Arachnikid’s arm and tugging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“F’got what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spiders can’t thermo-regulate, but people can’t just hibernate and then defrost. I’m such an idiot. Hold on!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Aaaaaand… </span>
  </em>
  <span>they pass out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wake up sometime later in a bed, a teenage boy’s bed, if the Star Wars bed sheets and crushed Monster cans are any indication. Their mask is still on but their suit is neatly folded on a nearby chair. Which...</span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a good four blankets piled on top of them, and when they sit up, they notice that they’re wearing Spiderman’s suit, in all of its red and blue awfulness. That’s also a bit weird, but it’s warm, like a heated blanket but snug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh good! You’re awake. Karen says your core temp is nearly normal.” Spidey says, standing in the doorway in sweats and a tee-shirt, but still wearing his own mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh…” Arachnikid says, ever so eloquent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, uh...sorry, I totally don’t mean to be a creep, or anything, but you had really advanced hypothermia and Karen said it was a good idea because my suit has a built in heater, and it seemed better than the body heat option they teach you in scouts. But for what it’s worth your mask stayed on the entire time, anyway thank you for not dying because that would be really hard to explain to my aunt, and I’m so sorry this is really weird and I just keep talking—” he says it all in one breath before cutting himself off abruptly</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, do you want some tea? Or we have hot chocolate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Arachnikid coughs awkwardly. “Tea. Tea’s good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So uh, thanks for saving my life and not leaving me to die of hypothermia on some random rooftop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh. You’re welcome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit in silence for a while, Arachnikid with their mask pulled up just enough to sip poorly made tea out of a chipped mug. They appreciate the effort, but Spidey is really bad at making tea. Guy probably microwaved it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, this is really awkward, isn’t it?” Spiderman says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They chuckle, tension broken. “Just a little bit. Say, I’m thinking of making it a personal policy that anyone who saves my life and lets me sleep in their bed is pretty trustworthy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spiderman tilts his head in confusion, not unlike a puppy, before realization makes the eyes of his mask open wider. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna. I get the whole secret identity thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They just shake their head and pull off the mask. “Name’s Frankie Stevens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait! You’re the AcaDec coach from BAT! No way!” Spiderman lifts his own mask up. Brown hair, brown eyes, frog mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Parker?! From Midtown? Small fucking world, man!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No kidding!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A little spider told me. Please use it responsibly. -TS”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie gapes, first at the note, then the suit, then back at the note.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dialing Parker from Midtown…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” Peter greets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Queens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Frankie, what’s up?” Peter asks. He sounds innocent but Frankie isn’t buying it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Care to explain why there’s a multi-million dollar suit in a paper bag on my dorm bed, signed ‘TS?’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He groans. “I should have known he’d do this. I told him I would give it to you myself but he likes to show off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Parker, did you give my identity to Tony Stark, the man who immediately went public with his own hero identity the moment he was given the opportunity?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No! Of course not! He probably spied on you because he doesn’t trust masks, which I realize sounds worse. I just told him you almost died of hypothermia because I was rambling like I do. Did I mention I intern with him? He just showed up to my house, told my aunt that I won a huge grant, and then he flew me to Berlin to fight Captain America which— I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup.” Frankie sighs. “Fine, whatever, I trust your judgement. If anyone could find me it’s him. Just tell him thanks and that I think he’s a creep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it—! Oh, some guys are robbing the bodega, gotta go!” The call drops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Long story short, Stark’s loyalty to Arachnikid’s mostly white color scheme results in lots of stains, and a newer, much darker one arrives a couple weeks later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One would think that six months into this whole crime-fighting gig, that one of them would learn to stop walking into traps, but they don’t learn, because even when the traps are obvious, lives are on the line.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This one takes the cake for being so obvious though. The base is far too well lit and far too empty. There’s not a person to be seen beyond the single guard posted outside, who is now pasted to the adjacent wall. It’s all very suspicious, but the nail in the coffin is when the door slams shut behind them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walls are lined with lead, meaning no way to send a distress signal.The real cherry on top is the EMP. The HUD on the suit flickers out suddenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m in danger.” Spidey says nervously. At the very least they can count on his poorly timed meme references.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your suit go down too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, love a good EMP. What is their plan here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if in response to Spidey’s question, there’s a deep rumbling noise and water bursts out of several wide pipes along the walls. It’s ice cold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fantastic.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drown a couple of spiders it seems.” Arachnikid quips, trying to turn the latch on one of the blast doors. It snaps off in their hands. Between the rust, possible tampering, and spider strength the thing never stood a chance. “Fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, cool, fantastic! We really need a plan cause I really don’t wanna die here” Spidey looks like he’s about five minutes away from a panic attack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit, you’re claustrophobic” Arachnikid says, not a question but a statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a huge fan of water either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit, okay. Let’s try the overflow up there.  We’re two very smart spiders, we’re going to be fine. Promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No dice. The overflow is reinforced to the point that even two super-powered spiders can’t make a dent. The water is halfway to the ceiling now and rising fast, and Spiderman’s not doing too hot. Then, as if it isn’t bad enough, the lights go out. Arachnikid can hear their friend hyperventilating but the room is pitch black and their teeth are chattering from the cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, Pete. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.” They say, solemn. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>But I do’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>goes unsaid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t either, Frankie. I’m sorry too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water is just a few feet from the ceiling now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck! I…” They stop suddenly with realization. “Fuckin’— I’m a moron. Holy shit!” They start pulling at the top half of their suit. Without the tech it doesn’t expand but a little spider strength goes a long way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I glow in the dark!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I glow in the dark! Take a deep breath! There’s probably a drain so that they don’t have to fish our corpses out after.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a wonderful mental image.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie has gotten good at controlling their bioluminescence, if only because it’s something to do. Now it comes in handy, swirling, speckled patterns lighting up across their arms and chest, bright green in the pitch black of the room. Arachnikid presses their face into the last few inches of air. Hopefully all that free running stamina will pay off long enough to save their lives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly the two of them swim down. Lit up in eerie green light there’s the drain. It’s welded over with sheet metal but it’s still a drain. Spidey gestures frantically, but it gets the point across just the same. The pair of them stick their hands to the metal, plant their feet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pull. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The welded edges creak in protest and the water pressure fights them, but they pull again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid’s lungs are aching, vision darkening, and Spidey is probably no better. They let out a noise of frustration, precious bubbles floating away. They have to get out of this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With one last tug the metal buckles, water tugging down through the now open hole in the floor. Spidey is latched onto the floor to keep away from the drain’s gaping maw, but Frankie is slipping, vision flickering. They see Spidey’s eyes go wide, see his hand reach out, and then everything goes dark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spiderman panics when he sees Arachnikid’s lenses narrow to slits and they start to be pulled towards the drain, unconscious. He reaches out and clings to their limp arm like his life depends on it. Arachnikid’s very well might.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels like hours until the water stops draining, until it stops pulling and threatening to pull his friend to their death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid isn’t moving. They’ve got a pulse but they aren’t breathing. Spiderman rips off their drenched mask and rolls them onto their back like the CPR course had taught him all those summers ago. He’s never taking Karen for granted again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon Frankie. Breathe! Please!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie wakes up coughing, wet, and upside down. There’s water in their sinuses and it burns like a mother fucker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh thank god!” Peter’s hanging upside down next to them, mask gone and brown hair dripping. “I tried to do CPR, but there was too much water in your lungs so I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hoping that gravity would do me a solid cause I did not want to have to explain to your dads that I killed their kid. But it did work,—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit that was scary—” Frankie pants, after the coughing finally passes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter nods, dropping to the floor and helping Frankie upright. “No kidding. I can’t believe you glow in the dark! What does that have to do with spiders?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who fuckin’ knows. They don’t have a danger sense either. Nothing about Oscorp spiders is normal.” They and Peter tug on now mostly damp masks. “Now we blow this popsicle stand. I’m going to go back to my dorm and sleep for fourteen hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You read my mind.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave comments! Even if it's just a key smash they always make me smile!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Arachnid meets Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frankie loves web slinging, like a lot. They could probably make an extensive Venn diagram of all the similarities and differences between web slinging and free running. It has the same intense physical exertion of free running, but with the wonderful additions of G-forces that steal the breath from their lungs and stomach dropping free-falls. And, since Peter was kind enough to share his web formula instead of their bootleg, they have the same trust in themself when web slinging that used to be reserved for parkour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s well past sundown when Arachnikid slows to a stop on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s dark enough and high enough that they feel it’s safe to shed the mask and hood. They should be heading back to school by now, but they figure they have a little time to take a breather and let the sweat dry before they swing back to Brooklyn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a day, huh Kitch’?” Frankie says aloud before sighing. “Man, I really need to make more friends. Talking to ten blocks of downtown Manhattan. Gods am I pathetic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a crunch of gravel behind them and Frankie’s spider-sense starts ringing all the alarm bells. They pull on the mask quickly and spin around, firing a web before whoever it is can blink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Red suit, horns, heavy boots. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen with webs over his eyes. He doesn’t even seem phased though, because he immediately flings a short metal staff at Arachnikid’s face</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah woah woah dude! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to step on your toes! C’mon we can talk about this!” They yell, dodging the projectile and raising their hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daredevil widens his stance anyway. “Who are you?” he demands, webbing still pasted over his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid drops their hands and sighs dramatically. “I’m Arachnikid, man. New York’s other spider themed vigilante. I know I’m new but you’d think that at least the other masks would know my name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daredevil drops his stance, but not his guard, retrieving his staff from the ground. “You’re a child.” He says bluntly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Congrats captain obvious. I get that a lot actually. Mostly from cops.” They pause for a second, brows furrowed under the mask. “Wait a minute, are you blind or somethin’? Cause I’ve never seen someone so unphased about webbing over their eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or something.” He says, like that somehow answers the question, and then Daredevil throws himself off the roof of the building. Very extra.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid races to the side of the roof, but by the time they lean over the railing, Daredevil is nowhere to be found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next time Frankie meets Hell’s Kitchen’s resident masked weirdo is only a couple weeks later. They’ve decided to take a long rest on a nearby roof after a long and tiring battle with Rhino leaves them with more bruises than healthy skin. It’s actually the same roof as before, they notice, flopping down and tugging off the mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got hairline fractures on your third, fourth, and fifth ribs.” Someone, Daredevil, says, not even having the decency to set off their spider-sense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s probably from the light pole I got thrown into. I’m ready for Spiderman to take over. There’s some ice-packs and overdue homework that has been calling my name.” Arachnikid falters. “Sorry, we spiders have a tendency to babble, though unrelated to the spider powers, it’s just coincidence. Say, since you’re blind I don’t gotta worry about you outing my secret identity to like, the Bugle or something. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daredevil chuckles. “Most people are more worried about a blind guy fighting crime in red spandex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s clearly titanium infused carbon fiber.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t see you, no, but I know your hair is dyed and curly, some shade of purple most likely, and you’ve had top surgery.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie gapes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can smell the dye and hair mousse, and I can hear the scar tissue stretch when you breathe. You’re about five-ten if I had to guess.” He says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laugh. “Color me impressed, Devil. I like to think my hair is more pink, but yeah. Tell anyone and I’ll kill you or whatever, I guess. It’s not like you know my name. But anyway, I gotta get back before the school calls my dad. See you around weirdo!” They pull on their mask and jump, swinging back to Brooklyn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that you need one.” Foggy says, tugging out one of Matt’s ear-buds and putting a cup of coffee on the desk in front of him. “But is there a reason you’re researching non-binary identities?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt chuckles. “I met that new vigilante, Arachnikid, and I don’t wanna sound like more of an asshole when I finally give them the ‘you’re a child’ lecture.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I’ll be damned. One teenager has turned Matt Murdock into a family man” Foggy says, slapping him on the back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut it. So I’m worried about the unsupervised teen swinging around the city in spandex. Sue me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Matt, my man, you couldn’t handle me in a courtroom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well if it isn’t my favorite fetish suit wearing weirdo.” Arachnikid greets. “How goes it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do your dads know that you’re doing this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie frowns under the mask, resisting the urge to cross their arms. “Ha! Are you joking? My dad may be a cop, but I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>putting those two in that kind of danger. There’s a reason the city needs heroes like us. Regular police officers aren’t equipped or don’t care enough to handle the shit we do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does anyone know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alright forget deflection. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do, man, but I can take care of myself. Do your friends know that their blind buddy is fighting ninjas on his days off?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The most important ones do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yikes, this guy is good at guilt trips. Arachnikid drops their shoulders and sighs. “You know that I’m out here, and Spiderman knows my name and face. Is that good enough for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your family can take care of themselves, but that’s your call to make, not mine.” He tosses a burner phone at Arachnikid. An actual god damned </span>
  <em>
    <span>flip phone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>like it’s 2006 again. “It’s got my number in there along with a friend’s. Her name is Claire Temple, she patches me up occasionally. Call her if you’re hurt. It’s always good to have friends so you don’t monologue to neighborhoods.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you just make a joke?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you. My name is Matt Murdock, and I’m occasionally funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad jokes don’t count as humor, but I surrender mother hen. The name’s Frankie Stevens.” They say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daredevil, Matt, is already backing down the alley, dark red of his suit fusing with the shadows like he belongs to them. “Don’t hesitate to call.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Frankie calls after him. “Thanks for this, deadass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs. “Thank me by not dying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t plan on making use of Claire’s number so soon, but things happen, specifically explosions. Explosions happen and they leave Arachnikid bleeding and dizzy despite the wicked good balance they’ve had since being bit. Their hands shake as they dial the number, smearing the keys with blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” The woman on the other end answers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Claire Temple?” Arachnikid asks, gritting their teeth against the pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s me. Who is this?” She sounds nervous, which is fair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a mutual friend. He wears a lot of red and has really stupid looking horns? He said you could patch me up in a pinch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sigh. “Daredevil gave me your number. I’m Arachnikid, the other spider. I’m kinda in need of some medical attention, since I’m currently bleeding all over the sidewalk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you? What’s your condition?” Claire’s voice has lost the nervous edge, like patching up strange heroes is somehow familiar territory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m at the radio shack on 34th. I got a few lacerations and I’m seeing double, so probably a concussion as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire cusses. “Is there any way you can make it to the roof of Maria Stark Memorial Hospital?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess we’re about to find out. I’ll call you if anything changes, or I’ll keel over and die.” Arachnikid doesn’t wait for a reply before snapping the phone shut and taking a deep breath. Head trauma means that web slinging is out of the question, and their subway card was back in their dorm. That leaves car hopping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only through sheer force of will that they even make it to Maria Memorial, nevermind  retaining consciousness while waiting for Claire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arach— oh my god! What happened?” She’s rushing now, gloves on and holding a flashlight to examine the damage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A building exploded, you know, the usual.” They groan when Claire presses on one of the wounds. Mother trucker that hurts like a butt-cheek on a stick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry. I’m going to have to cut the suit, unless you can take it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” they say, and before they can think better of it, they pull off the mask. The fresh air is worth any consequences at the moment. “Stark will have my head for the damages as it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too young for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’ve heard.” Arachnikid’s speech is slurring even more now, their eyelids drooping with exhaustion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Claire yelps, frantic. “You gotta stay with me. I will lose my license if I let you die on this roof.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s too late though, everything is already going dark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Frankie wakes up they just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>they’re not in the same place, even with their eyes still closed. They’re laying on something soft and warm, and most of the pain is gone, reduced to a dull throbbing in their ribs and head. It’s somewhat dark when they open their eyes, either really early morning, or twilight. Their memories are fuzzy at best, but their mask and suit are gone and they are in someone’s apartment. Their spider-sense stays silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.” Frankie cusses softly, shoving away the blankets and pushing themself upright on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh thank god you’re awake.” Claire is standing in the doorway. “I did not want to explain this to Matt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. Sorry about passing out on you. The head trauma and blood loss did a number, if you couldn’t tell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No kidding, it’s a miracle you even stayed conscious, let alone scaling buildings all the way to the hospital. How are you even alive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie winces. “I was, uhm, bitten by a radioactive spider and now I have super healing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire shakes her head. “Never mind, forget I asked. How are you feeling? Your pupil dilation was back to normal a couple hours ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well enough to be worried that the school has called my fam to report me missing. I’m not sure how I’m going to explain this one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to be able to get back alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That depends if you still have my mask. You’re not going to try and stop me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “I learned that lesson with Matt. You heroes breathe stubborn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Frankie suspected, the suit is shredded beyond repair, but the mask and web shooters are intact. Claire loans them a pair of leggings and a shirt that they both know probably won’t get returned. Once they’re out on the fire escape, Frankie pauses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Claire. Really. I would have died without you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah. Just try not to end up on my couch again. I’m a nurse, not a surgeon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well my dad always says that nurses do twice the work for half the pay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire chuckles. “That’s a good one, uhm…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Frankie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beep Arachnid Multimedia Message beep</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt’s phone chirps on the table obnoxiously loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beep Arachnid text message beep</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy picks up the phone, frowning at the screen. “It’s a selfie of Claire and that Arachnikid. They say  ‘Not dead. Send this woman a gift basket.’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt chuckles. “Damn that kid.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Frankie meets Frankie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At first Arachnikid actually makes an effort to avoid the infamous Punisher wreaking havoc in New York. He seems a little trigger happy, and while guns are low on the list of Arachnikid’s most dangerous foes, they’re not in a rush to poke that particular bear. Then of course Billy Russo turns up dead and Castle, or whoever it is wearing the skull seems to settle down. Gangs occasionally turn up dead, but that’s it. No extra carnage, no collateral damage. So Arachnikid stops actively avoiding the parts of the city where he turns up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t search him out by any means, but NYC is a surprisingly small city  and the crime fighting community is an interconnected web. Pun absolutely intentional.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid is busting, or attempting to bust, a drug ring in Brooklyn when he shows up. Really they have it mostly under control, plucking up goons from the rafters. Whoever the boss is, is suspicious, but hasn’t figured out how to look up yet. Then the gun fire starts, not directed at Arachnikid, but outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drop from cover and take out the remaining henchmen quickly, but by the time they finish the gunfire has stopped and they make their way outside. Carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lo and behold, there stands Frank Castle in all of his terrifying glory, among a pile of bodies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude! What the fuck?” Arachnikid yelps, jumping to the  ground. “You can’t just kill people!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castle whirls around, aiming a very scary looking gun between their eyes. Their spider-sense screams and they dodge just in time, knocking the gun out of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid throws up their hands. “Woah! Wait! Good guy! Please don’t kill me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Nother fuckin’ kid. God damn.” He grumbles to himself, picking up the handgun and tucking it into a holster. “You tryna get yourself killed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I’m busting a drug operation, which you so rudely interrupted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like hell you are. What are you? Thirteen?” Castle’s voice is deep, rumbling like gravel. The guy just screams danger, and with the way Arachnikid’s spider-sense kept up a constant hum, they knew that any lengthy combat with him would end with one very dead spider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse you Mr. Punisher. I incapacitated everyone in that building and you? You just created a mass grave in my backyard!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look kid, you don’t get to lecture me about doing what I do. Someone has to take care of them.” Castle retorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean the </span>
  <em>
    <span>police?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Speak of the devils, Arachnikid can hear the sirens now, probably in response to the gunfire. “We’re not done talking about this.” They finish before shooting out a web and launching themself away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Arachnikid: Murderer and Menace</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Reports have come in of a confrontation between the Mexican Cartel in Brooklyn and the burough’s local arachnid. It appears as if the menace has broken their usual pattern and killed a total of twenty-three people. If Arachnikid would break from their usual MO so suddenly, what is keeping them from attacking civilians and innocents? We must hold these so-called “heroes” accountable…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie tears the paper to bits, balling the scraps up between their hands and dropping it into the trash bin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That mother-fucker!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Francis Castle!” Arachnikid snaps, stomping towards the man in question. “You absolute psychopath! This is all your fault!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castle stands firm, face carefully blank and indifferent. It’s irritating, and gods only know how Matt convinced him to come up here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you seen what this bastard wrote?” They shove a copy of the article into his chest. “Jameson branded me a-a-a murdering psychopath because you don’t have the decency to leave a diddly-do calling card or even a consistent weapon! I have been putting out fires with the police </span>
  <em>
    <span>all damn week </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the general public hates me again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look kid, there’s a lot going on here that you don’t understand—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Don’t you lecture me Castle! This isn’t even about you killing people! This is about you killing people and getting the blame pinned on </span>
  <em>
    <span>me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty-three </span>
  </em>
  <span>counts of first degree murder! Not even Murdock could get me out of this one! So unless you wanna see a sixteen year-old go to prison for </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty-three counts of murder, </span>
  </em>
  <span> you better fix this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something miniscule changes in Castle’s expression. Hopefully it's a sign of regret. “I’ll talk to someone, get your name cleared. But you have to get some real training, kid. You can’t fight all your battles with fancy rope.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can and I will, old man. Fix this, or we’ll do this again.” Arachnikid retorts, shooting out a webline. “Later!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next time Arachnikid meets the Punisher they’re fine. They know they’re fine, but Castle only seems to take no for an answer when it suits him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately or not, Arachnikid continues to stumble upon people in the network when they’re injured. But this time it’s practically nothing; a mugger got in a lucky slice… or two. It looks worse than it is, chest wound bleeding sluggishly and the leg wound making them limp just a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s how Castle finds them, limping down the street pressing a really disgusting rag to their chest. They probably look a bit like a mangy cat from one of those SPCA commercials.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kid, what the hell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, I know it looks bad, but I’m fine— Agh! That fuckin’ hurts you asshole!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without any warning Castle pulls Arachnikid into a fireman's carry. It aggravates all of their wounds, but he doesn’t seem to care, preferring instead to scold the teen for their language.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like hell you’re fine. You’d pass out before you reached Grand Central. I’m gonna take you to mine, patch you up, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>you can go home. Got it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You actually gonna give me a choice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that’s how Arachnikid ends up on </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Punisher’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>crusty couch, holding an admittedly much cleaner rag to their wounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna let me take a look?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid’s lenses narrow in an approximation of a frown. The surgery was nearly two years ago now, but some of the little psychological quirks stuck around, one of them, of course being the hesitance to remove their shirt around grown men.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on kid. You shy or somethin’? I ain’t got all night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sigh, pressing the insignia on their chest and letting the suit fall from their shoulders. It’s strange, the reflex to cover their chest, even when there’s nothing to cover anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s gonna need stitches. Leg too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They roll their eyes beneath the mask. “Everyone says that, but I’ll be fine. I got advanced healing, things like this don’t even scar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then how do you explain those?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid knew this was coming, but they tense anyway. Suddenly the loose threads on the couch are very interesting, and when Castle coughs, they realize he’s still waiting for an answer. He’s waiting for an explanation for the gnarly looking scars curving beneath both of their pecks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s none of your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s apparently not the right answer because he fixes them with a look. “Maybe not, but whatever it is, made you real quiet, so speak up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re top surgery scars, jackass. Jesus.” They snap. “I got them years ago from when I had my tits removed. You’d think someone with your history would have the sense to not ask about people’s scars.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castle at least has the sense to look apologetic, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. Let’s just get you patched up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks… sorry for snapping at you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Long story short, Arachnikid ends up passing out at some point, and Castle unwittingly sacrifices his couch for the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wake up in the morning with what they imagine a hangover feels like. Exhaustion clings to their bones and light stabs at their brain like an ice pick. Sensory overload, always a great way to start the day. They’re still wearing their mask, and Castle has given them a blanket, so small mercies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wounds have scabbed over and even started to heal, not hindered by the seventeen stitches that Castle insisted on. Speaking of Castle, now that they aren’t bleeding and the sun has risen, Arachnikid gets a good look at the apartment and really? It’s exactly what they expected, dark, a little grimy, a sleeping Pit Bull in the corner, and guns on literally every surface. The man himself is milling around the sad excuse for a kitchen making coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid sits up with a groan. “Sorry for stealing your couch Mr. Punisher.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grunts. “Frank is fine, kid, and don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No can do, Mr. Castle. That’s too close to my name, and I call dibs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frank raises an eyebrow as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>really?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I have this policy that if I bleed on someone and then they let me sleep over at their place, it’s generally an okay idea to trust them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods. “You want some coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely not. Shit is disgusting” Frankie says, complete with an exaggerated gagging noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re one of those tea nutzos?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laugh. “Tea is good, but if I’m tired it’s energy drinks all the way. Helps with adrenaline crashes too. I get no sleep with this crime fighting schedule. It’s why Spidey and I alternate, otherwise we both end up sleeping through our classes.” They pause. “My name’s Frankie by the way, in case it wasn’t obvious. Frankie Stevens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frank squints out the kitchen window. He’s always squinting it seems, like he has a perpetual migraine, which isn’t a stretch considering the guy got shot in the head. But he doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, not gonna ask for a face to put with the name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my experience, kid, people who wear masks wear them for a reason, and I did my fair share of prying last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good answer.” Frankie says, before they pull off the mask, there’s grime matted in their hair and they just know they’re going to break out later. “Mind if I use your shower? Then I can get out of your hair and get some homework done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castle shakes his head fondly, scoffing. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Homework. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jesus you know how to make a guy feel old. Yeah, bathroom’s to your left, towels are on the shelf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks man.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is kinda the end? as in I have another probably 2k words that I wrote in high school that I haven't typed yet, and I'm not sure about. Also I'm writing some spiderverse stuff cause i think it's neat.</p>
<p>Anyway, please leave comments! They make my day, and kudo's aren't half bad either.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Parental Drama (and Trauma)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Arachnikid's interactions with their dads and how they find out their kid has been a superhero this entire time</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey officer!” Arachnikid swings down onto the roof of the cruiser, their dad’s cruiser. Yikes. Well, too late to back out now. “How are you on this lovely day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s different. His voice is completely off from how he talks to Frankie and Pa back home. They know their dad isn’t the biggest fan of vigilantes, but experiencing his scorn is something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, the other Spiderman has had way more experience with this than me— That is to say, I’m not quite sure what the procedure is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get to the point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just— Could you come with me? For just a minute? I promise I won’t murder you in an alley, I’ve just got a small problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Officer Stevens sighs but obliges, following Arachnikid into a nearby alley where they had webbed up an attempted robber. Said robber does not look very happy to be suspended several feet above the ground, but has a hard time complaining through the webbing on his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I’m new to this whole vigilante thing, and I don’t know how to do this and I really don’t want the police to hate me. This guy was running from the greek place down the block, which he robbed. And I didn’t want to leave him just hanging here because he’d either escape in a couple hours, or he’d just be cold and miserable waiting for someone to find him. I just don’t know how the other vigilantes do this part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should leave the crime fighting to the police, kid. This isn’t your job. We’re not some cleanup crew for superhero messes.” He snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not my job! But Captain America doesn’t exactly have time for petty crimes, and as great as the NYPD is, they can’t do everything!” Arachnikid retorts sharply, folding their arms. This conversation is beyond frustrating and they hate that it’s making them tear up under the mask. “The police can’t see and hear what I do. So I am trying to do the right thing, but I am making this up as I go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Officer Stevens sighs, Dad Lecture™ incoming, despite him not knowing that Arachnikid is actually his child. “You don’t have to do this. You’re just a kid. You should be worrying about English essays and making questionable choices with your friends, not fighting crime with every spare minute you have. What are you? Like fifteen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid pointedly ignores that last question. “I do have to do this. A friend of mine likes to explain it, I mean, he says that when you can do the things we can, and then you don’t and really bad things happen, those things happen because of you. If I don’t step up, bad things will happen. Vulture will steal a plane, or people will be caught in the crossfire. I won’t let that happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, kid” he huffs. “You’re going to get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid groans. “Yeah, and so are you,Officer. Look, just go to Daisy’s down the street. Their security feed will show this guy holding the cashier at gunpoint.” They gesture to the man. “I gotta motor. See you ‘round, Officer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word they shoot away on a webline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie is in serious trouble. Their web shooters are busted. Like really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>busted. Broken to the point that all they really have is a handful of shattered plastic held onto the wristbands by a thread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Frankie is a pretty good engineer, but this is completely beyond them. They can think of probably three people who can fix this kind of advanced Stark Tech. Stark himself is in Malibu at the moment, so he’s out. Peter is also out of town, so he’s not an option either. That leaves just one person. Dr. David Clark, Frankie’s Pa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's how Arachnikid finds themself climbing painstakingly up the side of the lab where their Pa works. It takes a while to find the specific lab from the outside of the building, but when they do, Dr. Clark is still there, working late again.  Dad’s not gonna be happy about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid taps on the window, and he practically falls out of his chair. Whoops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Clark?” They ask, hoping their voice doesn’t raise any suspicion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arachnikid!” He rushes over and opens the window to let them in. “It’s incredible to meet you! My husband, Officer Stevens, speaks highly of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pleasure, sir.” Arachnikid shakes his hand, which is only a little weird. “But I am here on official spider business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! In that case, how can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid holds out the broken web shooters. “The only other people I know who can fix these are rather indisposed at the moment. You’re one of the most brilliant non-billionaire engineers in the world. I was hoping you could fix them for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their Pa takes the pieces into his own hands, squinting through his glasses. “I might be able to piece something together, but these are beyond repair. I’ll have to print another shell and reverse engineer what’s left of the mechanics. My husband hates when I stay at the lab late, but I think he’ll make an exception for this. I’ll probably have something by Friday, you can stop by then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid nods “I can’t thank you enough, honestly. Stark will have my head if he finds out I wrecked his tech.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. You should get home soon. I don’t know if your family knows you’re doing this, but being out this late is a little suspicious for someone your age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh, hoping it comes out less nervous than they feel. “Yeah, I think I’m just gonna take the elevator this time. Have a nice night Dr. Clark! And thanks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, they don’t make it to Friday. Come Thursday, Peter’s still in DC dealing with whatever he’s dealing with, and Doc Ock is tearing up the Manhattan again. On top of all that, Arachnikid is still sans web shooters. Yikes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re doing their best, trying to evacuate everyone, keep them out of harm’s way, and avoid being impaled on Octavius’ tentacles. Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>tentacles. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” Arachnikid shouts. “You’re gonna hurt someone— someone innocent! Why can’t you fight me on like, an empty golf course?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll squash you like the insect you are!” Octavius yells, enraged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an </span>
  <em>
    <span>arachnid! </span>
  </em>
  <span>C’mon man! You have a Ph.D! And has putting civilians in danger ever gotten you what you want? Has it ever gotten any villain anything other than extensive jail time that you somehow weasel your way out of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blab all you want, Arachnikid! I know you’ve been grounded! It’s only a matter of time before I end you, and then there’s no one who can stop me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid groans. “Stop you from what? Your neural implant is poisoning your psyche Octavius! Just let me help you!” They’re slowing down, energy waning. This fight is not going in their favor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Son of a bitch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arachnikid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their head swings around, startled. There’s their Pa, holding two shiny new web shooters. Arachnikid sprints towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Clark! Are you crazy?!” They pant, distracted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry they took so long. I promise they work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid slaps the web shooters on their wrists, pressing the button and grinning when they work just as well as before. “Thank you so much! Now get somewhere safe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that, the fight is back in their favor. It’s still exhausting, but a few well aimed swinging kicks disable the high-tech arms, and Octavius thrashes as he’s loaded into the back of the police truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will break you Arachnikid! Break you! Squash you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck with that, Doc. Rot in hell!” They say cheerfully, waving as the doors close between them and the supervillain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what do you think of that spider-kid?” Frankie’s dad asks over dinner. It’s Saturday, only two days after the Doc Ock fight. Frankie nearly chokes on their drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spiderman?” They ask, trying, to be nonchalant. “I mean, he’s pretty cool. The G-Forces he must be experiencing are crazy and he acts like it’s nothing. 20 Gs can make a guy blind in like thirty seconds, any longer and the heart will stop beating.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their fathers chuckle before their Pa clarifies. “No, the other one. Arachnikid, with the blue and green? And the hood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie fidgets. “They’re pretty cool. It’s nice to see a nonbinary hero and they’ve got a better sense of costume design and color theory. I appreciate that.” They focus intently on their food, praying that this is the end of it. Really, they should have known better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie knows there’s no way they can keep Arachnikid a secret forever, but they were at least hoping to make it to college. But Lady Luck apparently detests Frankie Stevens with a passion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the past year or so of web slinging there have been some close calls. Suspicious injuries and black eyes, passing out randomly, leaving the suit in the wash. All just part of being Arachnikid. But they had always managed, until now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s kinda stupid. You’d think by now that Arachnikid would realize that muggers usually have weapons. It’s pretty much an integral part of mugging someone. But they missed it, the butterfly knife that the taller of the pair pulled from his coat in the dark of the alley. They missed it until it had sliced through the suit like tissue paper and cut deep into the side of their abdomen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure that butterfly knives are prohibited in New York City, pal.” Arachnikid quips, gritting their teeth against the sting of pain. They finish the fight as quickly as they can, webbing the assholes to the wall and instructing the victim to call the police. It’s not until they’re stumbling away from the crime that they realize how much they’re bleeding, blood soaking the suit from their waist to their mid thigh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gross. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They make it nearly two blocks before they trip on nothing, collapsing into the dark shadows of another alley. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yikes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Officer Stevens is the first on the scene, more officers quickly following. The victim is still there, tucked away in a 7-Eleven breakroom and shaking under a blanket the cashier had given her. He approaches her slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello ma’am. My name is Officer Stevens. Mind telling me what happened?”He asks gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was walking home from work. Those two guys threatened me— told me to give them my purse. Arachnikid saved my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevens nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They got stabbed though, and then they ran off. I’m not sure if they’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More officers are arriving now, cutting the attempted muggers from the brick. He turns back to the woman. “One of the other officers will give you a ride back to the station to give an official statement. Thanks for your cooperation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevens goes back out to the scene. If Arachnikid had been stabbed… well there’s no way they’re equipped to handle it. Sure enough, there’s blood spattered on the concrete, leading down the street away from the scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s worried. Call it fatherly instinct, but there’s a teenager running around New York City, bleeding, and he can’t just let it go. It’s not in his nature. And the longer he follows the trail the more worried he becomes. At one point there are smeared handprints on the walls where they had tried to stay upright, and then the trail ends in an alley not unlike where it began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NYPD!” He says loudly. “Is anyone there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a soft groan from behind a dumpster, and a costumed foot shifts lethargically. Stevens approaches quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arachnikid! You with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hero gives a nod. “No hospitals. Call Claire.” they grunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “Kid, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>a hospital. You’ve lost a lot of blood and I don’t know who Claire is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claire Temple. Nurse.” They shift, holding out a phone in one blood soaked hand. “Phone.” The kid insists, slurring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevens is starting to panic now, but takes the phone nonetheless, dialing one of the few numbers in the phone’s contacts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Temple.” The woman answers on the other side of the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claire Temple? I’ve got a spider bleeding out who insisted I call you. They’re not looking too hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Bring them to me? I’m at 49th and 10th.” That’s not far from where Stevens is now. Only a couple blocks. “Keep pressure on the wound and don’t panic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we’re on 46th. We’ll be right there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. I’ll wait outside.” She says, and then hangs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Officer Stevens wastes no time picking the kid up, wincing in sympathy when they make a noise of pain. He jogs as gently as he can towards 49th. He’s not as fit as he used to be, but adrenaline is powerful like that. He’s so gonna get shit from his Captain for abandoning a crime scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire, as Stevens finds out, is a petite latina woman who seems alarmingly well versed in stitching up masked heroes. She already has nitrile gloves on as she leads him towards her apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name, officer?” She asks, already cutting away the suit as the hero bleeds on her couch. Stevens helps in the only way he can, keeping pressure on the wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael Stevens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A funny look crosses her face but vanishes before he can parse it. “Do you know Arachnikid’s identity Officer Stevens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m going to have to ask you to leave, for the sake of patient confidentiality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevens tries to protest, but to no avail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand that you’re worried, but their identity is secret for a reason, and it isn’t my secret to share. If you would like, you can stay in the kitchen with the door closed. I’ve got this handled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevens acquiesces, closing the door. His radio is beeping incessantly so he shuts it off. And that leaves… nothing. His phone is back in his cruiser, so he can’t even fill his husband iin on the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe he shouldn’t do it— Scratch that, he definitely shouldn’t. It’s most certainly a breach of privacy but Officer Stevens is nosy and worried. He doesn’t even want to learn Arachnikid’s identity, he just wants to make sure the kid is gonna be okay.  So he opens the door just a crack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire is leaning over the kid, making a neat line of stitches. The hero groans in pain and tries to sit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey stop. You’re gonna rip your stitches and I’m not even done yet.” She pushes them back down into the couch. She whispers something that makes their eye lenses widen in fear or surprise or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Relax. He didn’t see anything. He’s in the kitchen. Now can you take off your mask? I gotta make sure you didn’t give yourself brain damage or something equally stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid slurs something back and obliges. Stevens can’t see their face from this angle, Claire’s body blocking his line of sight, but he can see a head of brightly dyed curls that are incredibly familiar. Stevens closes the door again and lets out a stressed sigh. How much of an idiot can he be? How could he not have realized that his kid is a web slinging superhero?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he does know, so many things make sense. Arachnikid only appeared after Frankie’s girlfriend died. What about Frankie’s newfound secrecy, or their new habit of sneaking out? Or the way they stumbled everytime Arachnikid came up in conversation? The bruises and the limping? How had he not </span>
  <em>
    <span>known? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Officer Stevens is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he startles when Claire knocks on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are they?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll live, thanks to you. They lost a lot of blood, and I’ll be surrendering my sofa for the night. You know how it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevens does not know ‘how it is’ but he doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure they’ll seek you out when they’re out and swinging again, if just to say thank you.” Claire shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long will that be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With their metabolism? About three days, a week at most, until they’re completely healed. They’ll be back on their feet by morning, but they’re grounded until they can get a new suit, which will be a bit. You should head home, I’ll call you if they take a turn for the worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevens knows if he protests it will look suspicious, so he doesn’t. He thanks Claire and leaves. Picking up his cruiser at the 7-Eleven, he goes home and tries not to think at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie wakes up </span>
  <em>
    <span>early </span>
  </em>
  <span>the next morning. They leave Claire a note and begin the trek to school. The wound doesn’t hurt too bad, and they get back just in time to go to breakfast. Their phone is dead but they don’t find the time to charge it until after lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cracked screen lights up, slowly restarting before beginning to vibrate non-stop with notifications. There’s the meaningless ones of course. Tumblr, Instagram, Email, etc.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From: Dad 13:03- We need to talk</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie freezes. Sure, there’s a chance he wants to talk about grades, or school, but it’s highly unlikely. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He knows that Frankie is Arachnikid,</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From: Me 13:07- Sure. What’s up?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Play it cool. On the off chance Frankie is wrong, there’s no reason to sound suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From: Dad 13:10- Would rather chat in person. See you Friday.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie groans in frustration. As if they aren’t stressed enough. It’s only Wednesday afternoon. This is gonna be the only thing they think about between now and Friday.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From: Me 13:15- Will do! Love ya!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From: Dad 13:18- Love you too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the stilted text conversation, time passes so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>slow. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Like Kronos decided molasses was a better medium than water. Frankie is naturally stressed all the time, but now they’re spacing out in class, thinking about how things could go wrong. Would he take the suit? Would he kick them out? Would he make them stop being Arachnikid?  If their dad saw them maskless at Claire’s there’s no way they can deny it. Who knows if he told Pa. Hopefully they can at least take whatever comes with some semblance of grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Friday arrives and Frankie takes the longest route they can to get home, postponing the inevitable. The apartment is quiet when they step in, only soft whispers coming from the kitchen that stop the moment the door clicks shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” They greet cautiously, waving at their dads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankie, have a seat.” Their Pa says, smiling awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on? Am I in trouble? I swear I’ve been keeping my grades up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their dad sighs. “We know you’re Arachnikid. I saw you with your mask off at Claire’s on Tuesday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” They say, too quick and too loud. So much for grace. “That’s crazy! I’m not a superhero.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their dad raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure you’re not. Show us your stomach, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie hangs their head in defeat. Lifting the edge of their shirt reveals the undeniable healing knife wound across their right side. It’s not too bad now. The stitches had mostly dissolved and it’s almost completely scarred over. In another couple days it will be gone entirely, but right now it’s clear that the wound had once been long and wicked and </span>
  <em>
    <span>painful. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Their dads don’t make a sound. Frankie lets their shirt drop back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Their Pa asks, after a few more tense seconds of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I didn’t have a choice. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t absolutely—” they trip over their words. “I couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>do this.”  Suddenly the grain of the wood table is incredibly interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you realize how dangerous this is?” Pa says. It’s not really a question but the last of Frankie’s brain cells have abandoned them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’ve been Arachnikid for over a year, and I got stabbed </span>
  <em>
    <span>two days ago</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it never occured to me that maybe this is super dangerous.” Okay, maybe sarcasm isn’t the best response but Frankie is nervous, and they tend to run their mouth when they’re nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their dad sighs. “The parenting books said nothing about what to do when your child takes up crime fighting in spandex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re worried about me, but I really am doing my best to stay safe. The suit is super high-tech and I can call any of the Defenders if I need help. Or Spiderman, or even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Punisher. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There’s always someone I can call when I get in over my head, and I have Claire to patch me up. I just— I have these incredible abilities, so if I can prevent someone from getting hurt, or worse, I’m going to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A weird look crosses their Dad’s face and he groans. “I know that better than anyone, and I know we can’t stop you. So, if this is going to continue, there needs to be some ground rules, and your Pa and I need to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie nods, grinning. Consequences were to be expected, but this is so much better than they had been imagining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how did this even </span>
  <em>
    <span>happen?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Their Pa asks</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie takes a deep breath and begins to speak. They start from the beginning, all the way back to the spider-bite, and trudge forward from there. They tell about meeting other vigilantes and finding out they glow (their dads made them pause that story to demonstrate), and how Tony Stark made them their suit because they almost died of hypothermia. It takes hours to tell the whole story, and by the time they finish it’s technically not even Friday anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all.” their dad says, once they finish. “You’re so grounded for lying to us.” His tone is light, but he’s serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s reasonable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two weeks, no crime fighting unless </span>
  <em>
    <span>strictly </span>
  </em>
  <span>necessary. We’re talking Rhino level threats. But after that, we won’t interfere unless your grades are falling or your methods are self destructive. And for the love of god, do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>hide any injuries from us.” their Pa says. “No ditching class unless something happens that would cancel classes anyway. And we want a way to monitor your patrols.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can put an app on your phone linked to my suit. It’ll let you monitor my location and vitals, and send notifications in certain circumstances.” Broken bones, bodily trauma, blood loss, unstable vitals, etc. It’s probably better that Frankie doesn’t specify.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Their dad says. “Go get some sleep, kiddo. And don’t even think about sneaking out to patrol.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie smiles. “Sir yes, sir!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and comments literally make my day, so please leave one if you enjoyed!<br/>The chapter number is tentative because I have some other stuff planned, and I want to get some more ideas, so if you have any, let me know.</p><p>The next chapter will be about their interactions with the Spiderverse crew</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Arachnikid: Into the Spider-verse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>MJ looks nauseated, and Frankie doesn’t think that it’s morning sickness. Peter B. doesn’t look any better. “I don’t care what kind of goober Peni makes, we are never, ever, visiting your universe.”<br/>“Honestly, that’s fair.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Arachnikid- Into the Spider-verse</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Something weird is happening, which is weird in and of itself, because a lot of weird things happen to Frankie. Radioactive spiders, half of the universe turning to dust, super villains dressed like all manner of wild animals, etc. So Frankie’s bar for “weird” is a really high one. Nevertheless, the glowing portal that appears on the wall of their dorm really takes the cake. They didn’t even have time to change out of their suit after patrol before it appears and sucks them in. No amount of desperate webbing can stop it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not painful, but the feeling is super strange and indescribable. It’s like touching a live wire, but not really. Their spidey sense </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it’s no use. Their body stretches and contorts through space time, like sugar in a taffy puller.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t help but yell, voice contorting along with their bones and muscles and skin. But then it’s over and they fly, screaming, out of the portal and smack face first into a billboard. And then they fall to the ground. Ouch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man, Peni wasn’t kidding when she said ‘exact same formula.’ Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid groans, peeling themself off the ground and looking up to see… Spiderman? Jeeze, they can not catch a break. This Spiderman looks nothing like the Spiderman they’re familiar with. This one has a better understanding of color theory, because his suit is black and red, and… spray painted? But strangest of all, he’s animated. Not animated like he’s energetic and excited, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>animated like a cartoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid brings their hands to theirface and </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yup, they’re also animated, with a weird frame rate and a style that lands firmly between 2D and 3D.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Eloquently put.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, I don’t know you. I thought you were Gwen at first, cause of the suit.” This new Spiderman holds out a hand, and Arachnikid takes it. Then, their spidey sense, which has been silent since they landed, buzzes up their spine and makes their ears ring. Not like a warning, but like a reverb when you put a mic too close to the speaker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is just super trippy, man. Why do I look like this? Where am I? Why are you dressed like Spiderman but weird?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s because I am Spiderman, in this universe. And you probably look different that you’re used to because the portal adjusted your atoms to be better suited for this universe. I’ve never dealt with the whole glitching thing, but my friends say that it’s pretty painful.” He says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…” Arachnikid says slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, you're not really the person we were expecting to bring through the portal. Do you want to go somewhere private so I can explain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid doesn’t have any better ideas, so if this is a trap they are definitely screwed. Following a masked person they’ve never met to some unknown location is really high on the list of stupid things they’ve done. But the guy doesn’t look like much of a threat. He’s scrawny, and a little shorter than Arachnikid. He’s certainly no Castle, but that’s no reason to let their guard down. Nevertheless, they follow the kid into the air on a webline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair of them head to the suburbs of Queens, at which point the kid has some trouble keeping himself airborne without the sky scrapers to anchor him. But for Arachnikid, this is just like parkour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new Spiderman pulls a key from some invisible pocket and unlocks the door to one of the houses. Right in the open, like he has no regard for his secret identity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Mrs. Parker! Sorry for dropping in on such short notice! I brought a friend with me!” Spiderman says. Okay, so probably not his own house then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An older woman steps out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a towel. “Another one? Goodness, Miles. Where do you find all these people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spiderman, Miles, takes off his mask. “I’m Miles by the way. Like I said, I’m Spiderman in this universe.” He looks like he has more to say but keeps it to himself after looking at Mrs. Parker. Frankie knows that look, the nervous-pity that everyone gives them when Paige comes up in conversation. Mrs. Parker lost someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankie Stevens. Arachnikid.” They say, pulling off their own mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s such a sick name, man! I wish I’d thought of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie laughs. “Yeah, it was all fun and games when I started, but now I’m 20 and I still have the word ‘kid’ in my name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles nods, as if he hadn’t thought of that, and then turns back to Mrs. Parker. “Mind if we use the supercomputer? Peni didn’t come through like she was supposed to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you don’t have to ask, Miles. Oh, and tell Peni her cookie recipe was a hit with the book club.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles nods dutifully and tugs Frankie by the arm out the back door to a… shed? Except that when Miles unlocks the padlock the whole thing glows with a giant spider insignia and opens into an elevator. Frankie is pretty much speechless as it lowers into a whole-ass lair, complete with a Jeep of all things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had the same reaction the first time I was down here.” Miles says. “Peter B just said that it was pretentious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I keep my multi-million dollar suit in a plastic tub under my bed, and you deadass have an actual Batcave under Queens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Batcave? Nevermind. It’s actually not mine. It belonged to the other Spiderman, before he- before he died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie thinks about it for a second. A woman in Queens who just happens to have a spider-lair under her house, and happens to have the last name Parker? “The other Spiderman, was his name Peter Parker by chance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles gives Frankie a strange look. “Yeah, did you have one in your universe too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still do, though he did vanish for like five years. He’s about our- your age. He worked with Tony Stark.” Frankie chuckles. “He looks like he’s got a frog in his mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta say, I love them all, but I have met </span>
  <em>
    <span>so many </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peters. Noir, Ham, B. I’m glad you came through instead of him.” He types a password into a small desktop, but since this universe seems to have no chill, seven TV sized screens light up in the dark. After a few seconds a young girl’s face appears. She looks straight out of every superhero anime Frankie knows, complete with the pleated skirt and the mecha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Miles! Your universe isn’t collapsing right?” She says brightly, even though that sounds super terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, the universe is fine. What happened? I thought you were going to come through the portal. Our new friend Frankie came through instead.” He points to Frankie who waves at the camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peni </span>
  <em>
    <span>beams </span>
  </em>
  <span>with excitement. “Yes, that was the plan, but I made a little miscalculation. I assumed the goober would lock onto me since I was the closest, but it was actually calculated to lock onto the strongest signal. You’d think that would still be me, since I was holding the thing, but nope! Frankie here has one of the strongest signals in the multiverse, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>strongest signal of those of us with radioactive spider DNA.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie’s an engineering major, but they only catch about half of what Peni is saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re basically like a lighthouse, which is great for us. If they’re okay with it, we could use them as a homing beacon of sorts to map the multiverse. My plan was to jump around and collect the data myself, but it’s way more efficient to just send Frankie as our like, pinball.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m that bright of a signal? But there’s infinite variations of just me across the multiverse, not to mention you and Miles and Peter apparently. What makes me special?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peni shrugs. “I have no idea. Spider DNA makes you brighter by default, but there’s something else that makes your signal even stronger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles turns to Frankie. “So what do you say? Wanna go bounce around the multiverse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie is about to answer when their whole right arm… glitches? THat’s what it looks like, but it’s also painful as fuck. It’s like they hit their funny bone but worse, and the feeling extends all the way from their fingertips to their shoulder. It goes without saying that they yell loudly and let out a string of colorful cuss words. Peni and Miles frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peni looks disappointed. “Alright, I guess I didn’t completely fix the cellular decay issue. But it’s only affecting your arm, which is an improvement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cellular decay?” Frankie asks, incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We usually just call it glitching, but basically your atoms don’t know how to deal with this universe and they make you glitch. If you stay here too long your cells will decay completely and you’ll die.” Miles explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie throws their head back with a sigh, “Well damn. I’m down to be your universal pinball, but you should probably deal with the glitching first. Also, I should probably let Peter and my dads know what’s going on before I vanish randomly into another portal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peni nods, typing quickly and popping her bubblegum. “Yeah, we can do that. I’ll try to give you a heads up next time we suck you into this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that would be nice” Frankie chuckles. “Peter will pretend to be salty, but he went to space, so...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright!” Peni grins. “I’ve got everything calibrated and ready to send you home. Just give the word!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie pulls on their mask and hood before giving the girl a thumbs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like before, a giant, bubbling portal opens up, this time without the suction. With a final salute Arachnikid steps in and falls through space-time. It’s just as strange as the first go ‘round, but then the webs of the multiverse give way to sunny New York and Arachnikid lands on their ass in Times Square.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arachnikid!” Spiderman’s familiar voice calls out, before he lands smoothly on the sidewalk next to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey man!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the hell did you even go? Karen said your tracker literally dropped off the map, like it never existed at all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid takes his offered hand and stands up. “Would you believe me if I told you the multiverse theory is absolutely correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spidey’s lenses go wide. “No way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They grin under the mask. “Yes way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie’s not sure what Peni meant by ‘heads up’ until they’re on patrol and they get a text from a restricted number that simply says “Hope you have your mask (((o(*°▽°*)o))).” Not even five minutes later a portal opens mid-swing and Arachnikid falls into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Third time’s the charm apparently, because Arachnikid does not eat shit when the portal dumps them into this new universe. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy oh boy </span>
  </em>
  <span>does this universe look absolutely bonkers. Miles mentioned a ‘Noir’ when Frankie was pseudo-abducted a couple weeks ago, but now it’s clear that the name is very much literal. This universe is actually completely black and white, and while Arachnikid still has some color, they’ve gone animated again, and it’s like their saturation has been reduced by seventy percent. Not to mention the lighting in this universe is super contrasted. The shadows are super dark, and pretty much impossible to see through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not from around here, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid looks up towards the voice. If it weren’t for the buzzing reverberation of their spidey-sense, they would hesitate to even call the guy Spiderman. He’s got the mask, and he’s sticking to the wall, but he’s also wearing a fedora and a trench coat in lieu of the spandex Arachnikid has come to expect. Not to mention the guns holstered on his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Frankie. I’m Arachnikid in my universe. Peni sent me to map out the multiverse. You’re Noir, right?” They ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” Noir says, dropping to the ground and shaking Frankies hand. “We should go somewhere private. A costume like yours is bound to attract some unwanted attention in these parts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against their better judgement, and those numerous Stranger Danger PSAs from grade school, Arachnikid follows this new, dark and gritty, Spiderman into a pitch dark alley. They follow him up a fire escape and through a window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to 1933, kid. Can I getcha a coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thank you. Wait, is that a Rubix Cube?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noir glances at the colorful toy on the counter and seems to smile beneath his mask. “I brought that back from when I was trapped in my friend Miles’ universe. Color doesn’t really exist ‘round here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie nods, tugging off their mask. “I’ve met Miles. Very energetic, and wicked sharp. He’s a good kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noir hangs his coat and hat by the door and tosses his own mask on the counter. He’s objectively handsome, sharp cheekbones, and a square jaw, and of course, a serious case of mask hair. He’s also got a few painful looking scars scattered here and there. It’s hard to see his eyes through the shadows but Frankie can tell he’s watching them. He’s on edge, predictably. I mean, Frankie is a colorful stranger who just dropped out of the sky, that would make anyone nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what brings you to my dimension, kiddo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently,” Frankie says, after making themself comfortable on Noir’s couch “In terms of the multiverse I shine like, super bright, compared to the rest of the spider folks. So, since she hopefully fixed the glitching issue, I’m like a radioactive beacon that Peni’s using to map the multiverse. Make sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how do you get home then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last time Peni just opened a portal for me and I walked through. I assume, when she’s done collecting her data, she’ll do the same here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noir nods. He seems like the quiet, solemn type.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never caught your name by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Peter.” He says. “Parker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that makes two now. Say Mr. Parker, it’s 1933. You wanna go throw hands with some Nazis?” They say, the epitome of awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man grins. “I’d love nothing more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid ends up spending a good seven hours in Noir’s universe. It’s not until after the pair of them blow up an entire Nazi base that Peni finally finishes collecting her data, and opens a portal. Frankie says their goodbyes, and  tosses the guy a colorful pin on their way out. After all, everyone should own at least one “fuck Nazis” pin. Honestly, Frankie would stay longer if they could, but they can only run face first into so many poorly defined walls before it stops being funny. Also, they kinda miss the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the bright side, they stayed a whole seven hours in Noir’s universe without so much as a glitched finger. Nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noir Parker is cool, and Frankie hopes, once all this data collection is done, that Peni won’t forget about them. They kinda really want to see the other’s again, and introduce them to Peter. The kid would love that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several weeks pass without so much as a word from Peni. It’s so long that Frankie starts to think that maybe Peni </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>forget about them, or found a brighter beacon to help her map the multiverse. But when is anything that simple in Frankie’s life? Never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next ‘heads up’ text is actually what wakes Frankie up on Sunday morning, at the absolute atrocious hour of </span>
  <em>
    <span>seven am. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peni just sends a cheeky little “Tell Gwen I said hi! (⁀ᗢ⁀)” And boy does that get Frankie moving, scrambling out of bed and reaching for their suit. They haven’t even had time to wash it, but a ripe suit is better than landing in another universe in just their rooster printed boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They barely have time to pull on the legs of their suit before the portal opens on the floor beneath them. At least they have the foresight to put the mask on first, because they land, stumbling and topless, into pastel Times Square. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why is it always Time’s Square?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This universe looks almost dreamlike, with the soft colors and the weird visual smear that everything has. On top of that, it has the same animated quality of Miles’ and Noir’s universes. But people are staring and Arachnikid belatedly remembers that they’re still half dressed. Quickly they pull on the rest of the suit. Not the best first impression they’ve made on a universe, that’s for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah! Nice suit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either Peni’s math is really good, or Arachnikid is really lucky to run into spiders within minutes of landing. But luck has never given a damn about them before, so their money is on the former.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, you spider folk are really calm about strange masked person’s falling out of portals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid’s spidey sense buzzes as the new Spider… woman? (They don’t want to assume) drops down from a light post. Her suit looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>wicked </span>
  </em>
  <span>and just a little bit similar to Arachnikid’s, with web print in the hood, and mostly black with accents of color. The white sleeves are a bold choice too.  Miles’ suit is cool, sure, but he’s got nothing on this girl’s use of color.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. “You’re awfully calm for someone who just fell out of the sky half naked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saw that?” Arachnikid winces</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah. The whole thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just my luck.” They shrug. “If I don’t fall on my ass, I’m half dressed. At least Noir still thinks I’m cool. Anyway, I’m Arachnikid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spiderwoman. What brings you to my universe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know when you get like a CAT scan and they inject you with barium to make things easier to see? Like your blood vessels and organs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spiderwoman nods slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m basically multiverse barium. I shine unreasonably bright no matter where I am in the multiverse, so Peni bounces me around different dimensions so that she can map them better. It’s pretty fun since she fixed the glitching issue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spiderwoman’s lenses widen. “Peni sent you? She’s working on interdimensional travel? There’s a chance I can see the others again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid can tell she’s super excited, grinning under the mask. “I mean, I assume. She doesn’t really contact me much except to warn me that she’s opening a portal, but you’re like the third universe I’ve traveled to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds like Peni. So what happens now that you’re here? How do you get back to your own dimension?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly? I just wait around until she opens another portal for me. I was in Noir’s dimension for seven hours before she collected enough data. But I don’t think that fighting Nazi’s is really a good option for killing time around here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. “Yeah, I’m afraid not. If you give me a moment to change we can go grab something to eat. I’m not really in the public favor at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lead the way, Spiderwoman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later finds Frankie, unmasked, because secret identities don’t matter in someone else’s universe, across from a blonde girl about Miles’ age with a sick half shave. They’re at some small cafe. Spiderwoman (because Frankie hasn’t gotten her name yet) orders a latte, and Frankie gets a smoothie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwen Stacy. Pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankie Stevens. Pleasure’s all mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pointedly, Frankie ignores all the stares and attention their suit garners. If a version of Frankie exists in Gwen’s universe, they’re probably not so well known that anyone should recognize their face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Gwen Stacy. Tell me, what’s it like here on Earth-65?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final time Frankie hops through dimensions on the whim of a 14 year old girl, they don’t even know that it’s the last time. Peni is a busy bee, so beyond the warning texts, they don’t really talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes just two weeks after the trip to Gwens dimension for the next text to come. It’s not even actual words, just a hole emoji and a short string of gibberish. Yeah, that’s not really a great sign, but it’s not like Frankie has a choice. So they pull on their suit, and when the portal opens they calmly let it pull them through space-time. Seconds later they land in </span>
  <em>
    <span>another </span>
  </em>
  <span>animated dimension. At least the brands in this one are normal. If they have to see one more ‘kola-soda’ billboard, their brain will short circuit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwen?” Someone asks, right on cue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See,” Arachnikid says. “When Miles made that mistake I didn’t have a comeback, but now I’ve actually met Gwen and I just- We have completely different suits. All we have in common is our hoods.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spiderman, a normal Spiderman, with no sense of color, lands in front of them. Arachnikid feels the reverb through their shoulders and up their spine. Based on the way this Spiderman’s shoulders twitch, he feels it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re like me.” He says bluntly. “You met Miles and Gwen, and you dropped out of a portal. You-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inter-dimensional travel. I’ve also met Noir, and I met Peni once over interdimensional skype. Gotta say though, you’re a lot taller than the Spiderman from my universe, and  it actually sounds like you hit puberty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spiderman stares for a moment, lenses narrowed. “You  have another me in your universe? And he’s not dead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, he was, for about five years along with almost everyone he knew, but now he’s back! But yes, he has the same ugly suit and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really bad at explaining things, kid. Anyone ever told you that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hardly a kid. I’m 20 years old. Though I’ve been told I tend to get sidetracked by my attempts to be witty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spiderman sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose through his mask. “Yeah, no kidding. C’mon, I’ll take you to mine and we can talk it out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Literally every Spider I’ve ever met tries to take me to a secondary location, and what do I do? I go with them, because apparently none of those stranger danger lessons stuck with me in the slightest.” Arachnikid snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spidey sighs again, even more dramatically, and takes off on a webline. They follow without hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get a serious case of deja vu as they follow Spiderman into the suburbs of Queens, especially when they stop in May Parker’s back yard? Except when they go inside everything is just a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>off. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Instead of plastic covered couches and antique furniture, the place looks like a furniture ad straight out of a magazine. There’s a few moving boxes in the corner, though it’s unknown whether their contents are coming or going. Most notably, is a picture of May and an older gentleman, Ben probably, on the mantle. If they had to, Arachnikid would guess that May Parker is dead in this universe.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Yikes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>No wonder this Spiderman seems so viscerally tired. He’s been through a lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spiderman takes off his mask and Arachnikid almost does a double take, because he looks a bit like Noir, which makes sense. It almost hurts to look at him because ‘their’ Peter Parker is sixteen and </span>
  <em>
    <span>young </span>
  </em>
  <span>and as carefree as someone with his tragic life can be. This Peter has been at this so much longer. His nose is crooked, his jaw is covered in scruff, and there are fine grey hairs adorning his temples. He can’t be more than forty but heartache and stress hang from him like a weighted vest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This Peter Parker has been to hell and back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name’s Peter B. Parker, but you knew that. Can I get you a tea or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just water would be nice.” They say, pulling off their own mask and hood. “The name’s Frankie Stevens, the Arachnikid of my universe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kingpin didn’t open another collider did he? Making goobers is such a pain and I don’t really want to fight him again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Daredevil sent my universe’s Fisk to prison </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>ago. He practically beat the guy to death in the process.” Frankie stops “Wait, the rest of you Spider folks met because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he wanted to bring back his wife and son from another universe. He killed the other Peter Parker in the process. But if you met Miles, that means he won, good for him. I was worried.” Peter B. says, handing them a glass of water. Frankie almost chokes on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ dude, Fisk in my dimension is scary, and he’s killed quite a few people, but never anyone so high profile. Mostly he’s just a mob boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the multiverse is a strange thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both silent for a minute, out of things to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how and why are you here in this dimension, Frankie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Right! Peni accidentally brought me to Miles’ universe and it turns out I’m really easy to see in the multiverse, so now she warps me around like a ping pong ball so she can map the universes and collect data. And she fixed the glitching issue. I can’t warp myself, so I mostly just end up sitting around until she opens another portal to take me home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s developing interdimensional travel? Wow, never underestimate a teenage super-genius’ who really misses her friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter, honey? How was patrol?” A pretty red haired woman comes waddling down the stairs, both hands on her round belly. She’s about six months along if Frankie had to guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“MJ, meet Frankie.” Peter B. says. “They’re visiting from an alternate dimension.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie pauses. “MJ? Oh man, my universe’s Peter is gonna love this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter B. gives a knowing smile. “Still doesn’t have the guts to ask her out? Lame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something happened on their school trip like a month ago, but he won’t tell me anything except the bullshit Mysterio was pulling. The kid has </span>
  <em>
    <span>trauma </span>
  </em>
  <span>trauma. He’s sixteen and technically older than me. When I tell you my universe is </span>
  <em>
    <span>bizarre.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ and Peter B. just stare at Frankie in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not have Thanos here? Man, consider yourselves lucky. He makes Green Goblin look like your everyday mugger. Five years ago he gathered a bunch of magical stones and snapped half of the entire universe’s population out of existence. I was on the subway when it happened. I got lucky, but Peter, his Aunt, and most of his friends were turned to dust. Then the Avengers fixed it. Peter lost his mentor, Tony Stark, in the battle. But everyone who came back was exactly the same as when they left. I got older, but Peter was still sixteen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s terrifying. I’m glad we don’t have that guy in this universe.” Peter B. says, tapping his knuckles on the wood of the coffee table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No kidding. It was one of the scariest things I’ve experienced, and I wasn’t even there for the battle in Wakanda. On top of dying in </span>
  <em>
    <span>space </span>
  </em>
  <span>and being resurrected, Mysterio leaked his identity to the Bugle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ looks nauseated, and Frankie doesn’t think that it’s morning sickness. Peter B. doesn’t look any better. “I don’t care what kind of goober Peni makes, we are never, ever, visiting your universe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, that’s fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie ends up sitting around and talking with the pair for several hours before Peni finally opens a portal in their kitchen wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it was fantastic to meet you, MJ, Peter-with-a-B. However, finals week is on its way and Spiderman still needs an adult mentor in his life. See you around!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you around, Frankie. Stay safe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie sticks their tongue out at him, just because they can, and waves to MJ before stepping through the portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, Frankie doesn’t hear from Peni for more than a month. When she does send a text, it doesn’t make much sense. “2099 helped me find Ham, so B. was the last one.” Frankie takes that to mean there won’t be any more random portals opening up any time soon. Honestly it’s nice not to have that pressure hanging over them. It’s nice to just patrol and worry about one dimension’s problems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And to be fair, their universe has a lot of problems that will keep them busy for the foreseeable future. Peter is starting to look at colleges, Frankie’s looking for a job, oh, and Mysterio </span>
  <em>
    <span>outed Peter’s secret identity to the entire world, </span>
  </em>
  <span>which is something neither of them know how to deal with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie is doing their best to keep shit away from Peter so he has some time to think. If he wasn’t already dead, Arachnikid would personally revoke Beck’s kneecap privileges. ‘Motherfucker’ doesn’t even begin to describe how big of a prick that guy was, and continues to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyway, Frankie doesn’t get a text from Peni for months, but when they do, things get exciting. It’s not just a cheeky message of a spider emoji, the message also includes plans for a dimension hopping device. Peter B. would call it a goober, but Frankie is more partial to gizmo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a couple of days to get it working properly, and in the meantime, Peni also sends the coordinates to Miles’ dimension, and instructions to bring Peter. Good, because they were going to bring him anyway. The kid could use a vacation where no one tries to kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s been locked in his apartment since pretty much the minute the news broke, but that’s not a problem for Arachnikid, who slips in his window one Saturday morning, gizmo in hand. The kid looks half dead, the stress of everything is really getting to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” He says lethargically. “Is there a villain attacking Manhattan again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie shakes their head. “Nope, but you’re gonna want to put on your suit anyway. I come bearing the gift of a well earned, villain-free vacation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter just blinks at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so you know how I was helping Peni map the multiverse? Well, she sent me the blueprints for an autonomous dimension hopping gizmo, and told me to bring you. So get dressed, we’re going to Earth sixteen-ten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s face lights up. “Really? We’re actually going to another dimension? You’re taking me to another dimension?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deadass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid whoops excitedly, snatching his suit from the closet and darting into the bathroom. He comes back out, not a minute later, mask in hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is incredible! I can’t believe I get to go to another universe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie smiles fondly under the mask, shaking their head. “Put your mask on kid, we’re going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter bounces excitedly as Frankie calibrates the gizmo. When the portal opens on his bedroom wall, they step in backwards, motioning for the kid to follow. He does, and a few moments later they land on their asses in May’s living room, surrounded by the other spider folks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everybody.” Frankie says, standing and tugging off their mask. “I’d like you to meet my dimension’s version of Peter Parker”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey everyone!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey there! I'm really proud of this story, so if you made it this far, please leave a comment or a kudos. It would mean a lot to me!</p><p>Thanks for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Arachnikid: Infinity War (+ Endgame)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I will push this fic over 20k if it kills me.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frankie isn’t even on patrol when the whole world- no, the whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>universe </span>
  </em>
  <span>turns upside down. They aren’t even wearing their suit. Instead, they’re on the subway, going home for the weekend. They’re just minding their own business when their spidey-sense screams so loud that they give a whole body flinch in response, eyes darting around wildly searching for the threat. There’s nothing, though. Nothing except- except then the screaming starts because people are turning to dust. It isn’t even some twisted metaphor, people are literally turning to dust and fading away to nothing within seconds. It’s terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as soon as it starts, it’s over. People are in shock, staring blankly where their friends and loved ones had been just seconds ago. Frankie’s not any better. They can’t even begin to comprehend what just happened. At least whatever had happened didn’t take the conductor. Frankie’s not sure they have the mental capacity to stop a runaway train right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment the doors open Frankie is sprinting towards home. Faster, faster, </span>
  <em>
    <span>faster </span>
  </em>
  <span>than what is strictly human, but no one cares. They have to get home, they have to know-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the air in their body leaves in a great rush when they see both dads, completely whole on the sofa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankie?” Their Pa asks, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie can’t find the words, mouth opening and closing without making a sound. The visceral terror must be written all over their face though. In two seconds flat Frankie’s wrapped in the solid embrace of both of their fathers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I was on the train and- and people just started to-to-to turn to dust. I thought that it m-might have happened to you too. I don’t- I don’t know what’s going on.” They hiccup through their panic.</span>
</p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>Their dads just hug them tighter, sitting them down on the sofa and wrapping them in a blanket.</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>
  <span>“Take a deep breath Frankie.” Their dad says, gently. “We can’t do anything right now except wait for answers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie nods, heaving a breath. “Okay… okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So many people vanished that it takes hours to get any information. News eventually comes from Captain America himself. Thanos, a galactic threat bigger than anything the world has ever known, has removed half of all life from the entire universe. They’re gone, with no certainty whether they will ever be returned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie makes a list of everyone they care about and spends the next week contacting as many as they can, figuring out who’s still alive. As name after name gets crossed off as dead, Frankie breaks apart inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt is gone. Claire is gone. Ned and MJ are gone. Peter’s Aunt May is gone. And Peter? Frankie tries everything to get a hold of him, but all Karen knows is that his tracker went offworld. They hold out hope for all of three weeks that Peter is just in space, and he’s fine. It’s three weeks until Tony Stark himself calls late one evening to tell them the truth. Peter Parker is gone too, turned to dust just like so many others.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie cries that night, cries big heaving ugly sobs. They cry until the dehydration gives them a headache and their nose is raw from tissues. They cry until the sobs empty their stomach. Their best friend is gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie starts to spend a lot of time with what’s left of the Defenders. It’s just Danny and Luke now, and Frankie isn’t as close to them as they were with Matt but it’s nice to spend time with people who remember him. They spend even more of their time with Foggy and Karen for the same reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castle? He’s alive, and he doesn’t have “people” the way that the rest of them do. He’s not so fucked up by the loss the way everyone else is. He’s abrasive and quiet and rude, but as unappetizing as his company may seem, Frankie spends more time with him than anyone else, in his tiny shithole apartment playing with Max and not talking. Because Frank’s apartment exists in this perfect little bubble where nothing is wrong. He doesn’t wear the loss of everything like an invisible pair of cement boots. In his apartment Frankie can pretend that Peter, or Matt are going to text them any minute to ask for help on a case (Peter), or check in that they aren’t bleeding out (Matt).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beyond the first call, Tony never reaches out to Frankie, even goes so far as to turn down their calls. Frankie doesn’t blame him for Peter being… gone, as easy as it would be. They get it. They understand why he’s avoiding them. Tony doesn’t want to see Frankie for the same reason that they desperately want to talk to him. They remind one another too much of Peter. Peter, who was sixteen and scared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is all just a long winded way of saying that everything sucks, and everyone is grieving for a long, long time. Frankie can’t even find the energy to put on the suit for weeks, to the point there are headlines speculating that Arachnikid had been dusted along with Spiderman. Two young vigilante spiders lost to the “Blip.” It’s not until they hear screaming outside their window that they finally put the suit on again and start patrolling. New York rejoices, until someone asks the question. The one question Frankie never wanted to hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Spiderman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid means no harm, but Arachnikid flinches like they’ve been electrocuted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry?” They ask, not because they didn’t hear, but because they’re hoping they heard wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Spiderman coming back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Several people have stopped to wait for an answer, some with their phones out. All the eyes on them make Frankie feel small and cornered in a way villains never had never managed. Slowly they crouch to be eye-level with the boy, and his mother gives them a tense smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spidey went to space with Iron Man, but some really bad things happened. So now he has to stay there for a long time.” Arachnikid ruffles the kid’s hair. “I don’t know if he’s coming back, kiddo, but I’ll look after the city for as long as it takes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Overnight the video of the encounter goes viral. Spiderman was dusted, just like billions of others. The city commissions an artist to do statues of all the heroes New York lost. Daredevil’s statue stands proud in Hell’s Kitchen, and Dr. Strange’s is the most impressive, where it stands in front of the sanctum in Manhattan. But Spiderman’s is the most loved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It stands in a park in Queens, plain bronze on a short plinth with benches around the base. The hero is crouching, arm outstretched to fire a web. Cards and flowers and candles surround the base of the statue on every side. It’s so bright and colorful it’s like the statue has bled its pigment, the same way Spiderman had bled for New York. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Strange was a hero, but Spiderman was someone real. New York loved and trusted him. He was the kind of hero people trusted to walk them home on a dark night, or help them carry a sofa up to their apartment. Standing in the chasm he left behind, Frankie’s chest aches. New York lost more than some vigilante. The city lost a son, a brother, a friend. Arachnikid isn’t sure they can begin to fill that void.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s only one question Arachnikid dreads as much as that kid’s. In the age of the internet and a halved population though, the question only gets asked once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you know Spiderman’s identity?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid takes a deep breath to gather their thoughts. Unscripted speeches have never been their forte. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I did know his identity.” They say finally. “And I also know he kept it a secret for a reason. Though he may be gone, it is not my secret to tell. Behind the mask he was a real person with a family. Spiderman belongs to the city, but the kid behind the mask belongs to the people who loved him. I think that they should be allowed to grieve and keep that part to themselves without a bunch of strangers getting in their business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole world feels quiet after the Blip and Frankie hates it. It’s like when the AC shuts off in the middle of study-hall and the new silence makes their ears ring. But there’s nothing they can do except keep moving forwards and picking up as much slack as they can where Matt and Peter used to be. It’s hard. Sometimes, seeing Danny taking care of crime in Queens, or Castle taking non-lethal shots because he knows it’s what the others would have wanted. It’s shitty work, but someone has to do it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole universe is grieving, and Frankie is no different, but like everyone else, they have to keep on truckin’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the first anniversary of the Blip, Frankie goes to the Spiderman memorial, not as Arachnikid, but as Frankie. They bring flowers because it seems like the appropriate thing to do, and sit on the benches beneath the monument for hours. It’s funny. Before all this, they couldn’t stand being still for even a moment, but once they sit down at Spiderman’s bronze feet… well, not even the whole of Olympus could make them move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you know I’m seventeen now Spidey? Feels weird, man. Like time shouldn’t be passing without you and the others here.” They say under their breath. “It sucks, ya know? That I wasn’t there with you when it happened. I won’t kid myself into thinking I would have been strong enough to save you, but I was just on the train, ya know? Doesn’t really feel that heroic to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sigh, looking around at the flowers and gifts.  Some of the candles nearby have gone out, so Frankie lights them again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really were the best of us Spidey. You brought this city together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie sits below the monument for hours, recalling all the events of the past year. They have no idea if Peter can hear them, wherever he is, but that’s not really the point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People come and go all day, leaving cards and flowers. Some eye Frankie with suspicion, others with understanding. They probably look pathetic, like a grieving widow, talking to a hunk of metal. And the strangers don’t know them, they probably think that Frankie is just some kid, but it doesn’t matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they run out of things to say, they rise from the bench, bones cracking, and walk home slowly. The world doesn’t stop turning just because one spider is dead, no matter how much he mattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s not a day that goes by that people aren’t keenly aware of what they lost. Men and women, parents and children. All gone. But there’s also not a day that goes by that anything can be done. Time just continues to pass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie turns eighteen and people are still gone. Frankie graduates High School, gets into college, and Peter is still gone. Time continues to flow and all the memories stay frozen in the light of childhood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the really bad days, Frankie puts on the mask just to have Karen play baby-monitor footage from before. They’re a grown adult now, and it’s bizarre, realizing that they’ll never hear Peter’s voice crack and drop. Castle complains about his joints sometimes, though he’s not yet fifty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the third anniversary of the Blip, Tony shows up while Frankie is visiting Spidey’s memorial. They can see the moment he recognizes them, the whole body flinch of a guy who was the father figure to their dead best friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Mr. Stark.” They greet gently, gesturing to the empty spot on the bench next to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands shift on the bouquet he’s holding, all different flowers in various shades of red and blue. It’s absolutely garish, and Peter would have loved it. After a few moments of awkward silence, Stark takes a seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t blame you, ya know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They aren’t looking at each other, instead they’re watching people pass by, occasionally pausing to leave something at the base of the monument. It doesn’t matter that Frankie can’t see him, though, because they can feel the way their words make Stark tense up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.” He says. “But he was still just a kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So were Ned and MJ, and trillions across the galaxy. You gave it your all, and sometimes it’s just not enough. You are not to blame. Thanos is. When given absolute power, he made the choice to destroy. That’s on him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did you get so wise?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a hero, Stark. You know that no one gets into this line of work without losing someone. The Blip is just an extension of that. I’ve always been wise, now I just have the age to express it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stark chuckles lightly. “I wouldn’t exactly call nineteen the age of wisdom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time is a construct anyway. I’d say I have enough trauma to land me solidly at like twenty-four.” They retort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You remind me of him sometimes.” Just like that the humor is gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t know what to say to that, so they don’t say anything, letting Stark say what he needs to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything does. You. Delmar’s Bodega. Coney Island where he took down the Vulture. Morgan too. She acts just like him sometimes, and she’s got this spark in her eyes. She’s sassy like he was too.” He pauses. “She makes me tell her how Spiderman took down the Vulture every night before bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a good man, Stark. He knew that. No one deserved any of this, him least of all.” They say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a good kid, Frankie. Thanks for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anytime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony leaves soon after with an open invitation to visit him whenever. He lives out in the woods now, retired to a cabin upstate. He leaves the god awful flowers at the statue’s feet, which have been worn shiny by years of strangers’ touches. It really is a beautiful memorial.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time continues, now marked  monthly by a long trip upstate to play with Morgan and have lunch with the Potts-Stark family. Frankie’s twenty-first birthday passes uneventfully with a bottle of wine alone in their dorm. With the population halved there’s not people to fill the halls, and Frankie glares at the empty bed across the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So they spend their twenty-first alone, drinking, and the following weekend at home, drinking. A bottle of Jack gets left on the monument, not because Peter would have liked it (he would have spat it out with a grimace), but because the kid didn’t get the chance to try it himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the fifth anniversary of the Blip, the Bugle doesn’t spit flaming garbage for once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>In Remembrance of Our Hero: Spiderman</b>
  <b>
    <br/>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Five years ago today, New York lost so much. Billions were lost in the Blip, but few losses were felt as strongly as the absence of Spiderman. Though clearly young and inexperienced, he did his best to protect the city we call home…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie visits the monument as Arachnikid this time, copy of the article in hand. The space beneath the statue is once again as bright as it was the day it was erected, full of life and color, and candles still lit. The sun has set, so not many people are still there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They bypass the bench and sit farther up on the plinth, where the statue is fixed to the stone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did it, man.” They say, waving the paper. “It took five years of being dead, but the Bugle finally wrote a good word about you. Just wish you were here to see it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They set the paper down and rest a hand on one of his shiny bronze feet. “You were the best of us, kid. I’ll never stop missing you, and neither will they.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Months pass. Frankie continues with college, continues being Arachnikid, continues visiting Tony once a month, and continues to live their life. It’s been over five years since so much was lost. They’ve adjusted along with everyone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pointedly they never ask about Thanos or the details of what happened. Their therapist says it’s better that way, so they don’t fixate on what they could have done, when won’t change anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie starts their junior year of college, turns twenty-two, and keeps moving forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>October comes and Happy calls them out of nowhere. He says he’ll be picking them up after classes. Frankie lies and says their classes have already ended. Something big is going to happen, and Frankie wouldn’t miss it if Apollo himself came down from the sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Happy drives to the Avengers compound upstate. Frankie’s only been there once, with Peter. After the third time they had to be cut from the suit, Stark added a tear-away feature and taught them both how to repair a torn suit</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The compound is visible in the distance when suddenly, an aircraft unlike anything Frankie has seen, tears out of the roof. Frankie’s spidey-sense is going wild</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Step on it, Happy.” Frankie says, pulling off their clothes to reveal their suit. “Something is wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his credit, though Happy is not a hero, he has the instincts of one, flooring the gas pedal and racing towards the compound. Frankie pulls on the mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Karen, what the fuck is that thing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unclear, though scans indicate technology similar to that of the Chitauri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fantastic. Thanks, Karen.” Arachnikid bites back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, things get worse. The UFO opens fire on the compound and the building crumples before the car is halfway up the stupid driveway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why the fuck is it so long?!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy, you need to get out of here. Right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And leave you here? No way kid!” He says, and stomps on the breaks. That’s all Frankie needs to kick the back door open and bail out. Happy has more self-preservation than all of the Avengers combined. He’ll do what he should.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kid wait! Just a minute!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie spins around to see Happy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>out of the car</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and rushing towards the trunk. So much for self-preservation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m leaving, but not before giving you this!” He pulls a heavy-looking steel canister out of the trunk. Frankie doesn’t have time to think before the thing opens and whatever’s inside comes flying at them. But their spidey-sense doesn’t react, and why would it? It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>armor. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s not just spandex and kevlar, but nano-titanium armor, complete with their colors and the white spider across their chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It smells like a new car!” Frankie exclaims, dumbly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah it does.” Happy agrees. “Now go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Frankie does. There’s no buildings or trees, so they have no choice but to book it across what remains of the lawn. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>do things get scary for gods only know how long. It feels like hours but it’s probably no longer than twenty minutes. There are legions of enemy soldiers, fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>aliens, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Frankie never even makes it to the real battle. They are far too busy begging Phanes for forgiveness and trying not to die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lot of things happen that Frankie files away for later like </span>
  <em>
    <span>the fucking Chitauri dragon </span>
  </em>
  <span>that appears, or giant sparkling portals that open up on their side of the battle field, or Ant-Man turning into a giant. But Arachnikid isn’t in the loop, in fact, they’re pretty sure no one even knows they’re here. It doesn’t matter, their job, though self-assigned, is to thin out the herd until every enemy is dead, or they retreat (or until Frankie dies). It’s crazy and scary but there’s no time to think.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At one point a familiar boy yells as he is carried across the sky by Thor’s hammer, but Frankie’s gotten used to seeing and hearing Peter when he’s not actually there. So that particular issue can stay on the backburner for a little while longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The UFO opens fire again and Frankie ducks under a wizard’s shield as it tears across the battlefield.  Then some crazy glowing lady tears through the ship like tissue paper and they’re back at it. Fighting, fighting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fighting. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There’s so much chatter on the coms, but so long as no one needs their help specifically, they’ll ignore it-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid’s foot goes straight through their enemy’s head, not because they’re that strong (they are), but because the monster has turned to dust. It’s just like all those years ago, except this time it’s not random. Wakandan soldiers, and wizards struggle to their feet as thousands of alien troops are reduced to dust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s over. They’ve won.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie lets their helmet fall away, taking a breath of dust-filled, smokey air, and falling to their knees. There are cheers all around them from those who have the energy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Karen, did they do it? Did they bring them back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Frankie. The Avengers successfully reversed the Blip. Those who were lost have been returned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t even bother trying to stay upright anymore. They flop backwards and stare at the sky, tinged red with smoke and fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a hard battle, and they deserve just a few moments rest. It takes several minutes alone for their chest to stop heaving, and another couple to gather the motivation and momentum to rise from the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s not a doubt in Frankie’s mind that this battle, despite winning the war, is a loss. From where they stand they can see hundreds of broken bodies that will need to be recovered and properly cared for. That alone will be as hard as the battle that created them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankie?” Someone says, and Frankie knows that voice. They’ve heard it in every nightmare they’ve had for the last five years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turn, and there he is. Peter Parker, alive and mostly whole. He’s even got a metal suit to match Frankie, in that tacky red and blue scheme. They’ve never been so glad to see those garish colors. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he’s still sixteen, young and babyfaced, but with pain in his eyes. Unimaginable pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Pete-” They don’t even finish saying his name before they’ve got an armful of teenage spider. For him it’s only been a couple hours since they saw one another, but Frankie doesn’t question it. It’s all they can do not to crush the kid shaking in their arms. He’s back. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Stark- He- The stones-” Peter hiccups. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Oh no.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, kid. I’m so, so sorry.” Frankie says into his hair, because what else do you say to a kid who just lost his third father figure?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My aunt. Ned and MJ, are they- did they-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re back. Same as you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter steps back, and Frankie lets him, as much as they never want to let him go again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got old.” He says wetly. “You sure I was only gone for five years?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie laughs, startled. “I resent that. I’m twenty-two, not forty-two. You’re just a baby, Parker.” They say,  putting an arm around his shoulder and turning away from the crater, leading him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter resists. “Where are we going? The- We have to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie just shakes their head. “You did your share, kid. We’re gonna call Happy, who hopefully has another set of clothes, and go get some pizza. Then we’re going to my dads’ to sleep off the inevitable adrenaline crash. It’s gonna be a bitch to get into my dorm right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter opens his mouth to protest but closes it without a word. He’s worn out, and probably a little shell-shocked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought so. Karen? Could you ask Happy to come back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s on his way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turns out it’s pretty hard to get pizza after half the population of the entire universe just blinked back into existence. But Happy handles the news gracefully as can be expected, and takes them back to Brooklyn. They’ll all have time to grieve later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie’s dads are waiting with two loaves worth of sandwiches, lots of gatorade, and clean clothes (Frankie texted ahead), which they both appreciate greatly. Peter borrows Frankie’s phone to call his aunt and text his friends before he literally faints from exhaustion. Frankie moves him to the couch, covers him with a blanket, and promptly falls unconscious in a nearby armchair. (The last thing they want is for Peter to wake up alone on a strange sofa after all he’s been through.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they’re both well fed and rested they can deal with everything else. First comes the heavy stuff, cleanup, funerals, and the fact that the Parkers are technically homeless. Then they can deal with the lighter things, like inviting May, Ned, and MJ over to update them on the last five years around a table of snacks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie finally gets a hold of Matt and nearly crushes his ribs because they’re so glad to see him. Matt dumbly says “why are you an adult?” with so much seriousness that they cry with laughter and their stomach is in stitches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a couple weeks, now that the Rhino is un-Blipped, the Spiderman memorial will be toppled and crushed. Frankie will grin because the real thing is swinging on a webline right next to them. The following week the Bugle will publish another piece of hot garbage calling the pair of them menaces with all the usual vitriol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things will never be normal, but that’s okay, because now </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>has to figure out what normal means again. It’s exciting.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so bad with elapsed time that I had to draw out the entire timeline from Infinity War to Endgame marked with Frankie's birthday and like graduation dates, and Blip Anniversaries just to figure it out.<br/>Which means that in the previous chapter I got Frankie's age wrong, because i just kinda guessed. Peter is 16 and now Frankie is 22.</p>
<p>My google doc is at 64 pages now, 12pt, single spaced. And I still hand write all these chapters first.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Arachnid meets Dragon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time that Frankie meets Danny, it’s well before Oscorp and all the disasters that follow. They’re a freshman at Brooklyn Arts &amp; Tech, and they hate it. Unfortunately, they also really don’t want to disappoint their fathers, so they’re putting in the effort or whatever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight is the first night they’ve found the guts to sneak out, crawling carefully down the fire escape and praying that they don’t get caught. Really, all they need is to get out for a while, away from the stuffy uniforms and bleak dorms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, Tyche seems to be with them, and they make it off campus without a hitch. It’s barely dark and they pay cash to take the subway to Chinatown. They know the buildings there about as well as they know Latin (not at all). It’s a challenge, which is exactly what Frankie needs to get their mind off of the last month of painfully stressful classes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their movements aren’t as flamboyant as when they’re familiar with the terrain, but despite that, they manage to work in a few off center spins and compact front flips. It’s nice to be completely exhausted again. There’s no room to think about grades or calculus, or that cute girl Paige who sits behind them in physics. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually they make their way to a park, and because they’re a cheeky asshole, they vault over the back of a bench and plop themselves down next to the guy already sitting there. He’s scruffy looking and he’s not wearing shoes, probably homeless. Shame, it would have made their night to spook some rich corporate prick. This guy barely reacts to the sweaty teen who comes out of nowhere. Also a shame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy has earbuds in, connected to </span>
  <em>
    <span>an iPod Classic? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jesus. He glances at Frankie, offers an awkward smile, and goes back to reading his book. It’s well worn, hand bound, and written in what Frankie thinks is Mandarin. This guy certainly is a character.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He holds himself strangely too, posture impeccable and confident. Frankie sees almost no one with that kind of posture, least of all homeless people. He’s also not wearing shoes, despite it being kinda chilly tonight. After a moment of Frankie trying to catch their breath, the man breaks the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was tracking your path across the roofs. You’re very talented.” He says. “What do you call that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie laughs. “It’s called parkour, man. You’re like what? Twenty-three? How do you not know what parkour is? Have you been living under a rock?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man chuckles, pulling out his headphones and wrapping them around his iPod carefully. “In a monastery actually. And I’m twenty-five.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie raises their eyebrows. It makes sense, kind of. The weird book and the clothes, and the lack of modern knowledge. “Sounds like quite the story there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did you train? To learn parkour?” He asks, and it’s kind of startling how genuinely interested he looks, instead of just asking to be polite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Youtube mostly, a lot of trial and error. I’m still learning but I don’t eat dirt as often as I used to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems a little inefficient, all the extra flips.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie smiles. “Well…” They trail off. They never actually got the guy's name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Danny.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankie. Sometimes it’s not about the efficiency Danny. Sometimes you just gotta have fun and show off.” They say. “However, I did break out of my pretentious boarding school to come here, so I should probably head back. See you around, Danny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie chokes on their lunch a couple of days later when Danny from the park is giving a press conference at Rand Enterprises, because he is, in fact, the long dead heir of fifty-one percent of the company. Danny Rand. Man, New York City is a strange place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then a lot of things happen and Frankie all but forgets about Danny Rand. They get a girlfriend, get bit by a spider, and a whole bunch of other crazy shit. They’re aware of him the same way that they’re aware of any other wealthy corporate asshole, like Jeff Bezos. They forget about him, until they see something really weird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now Frankie sees a lot of weird things, it comes with the turf in a place like NYC, but somehow the bar keeps getting raised. With so many invasions and villains it’s a miracle that anyone still lives in Manhattan. But this is a new kind of weird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s this guy in Chinatown, with a yellow mask pulled over his nose, playing a game of chicken with an armored truck that clearly doesn’t like him very much. There’s not enough time for Arachnikid to do anything, but it turns out it doesn’t matter because at the last minute the guy sidesteps the truck, his fist glows yellow, and he punches the engine right out of the hood. Literally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid doesn’t intervene for several reasons. For one, they have no information on who the “good guy” is here, though it’s probably not the hoard of dudes in street clothes with assault rifles. Also, there’s so many guns that Frankie doesn’t trust their chances. They’ve been doing the vigilante gig for about two months now and they’re trying to put off being shot for as long as possible. Also, none of these people know Arachnikid, so chances are they’d have to fight the dude with the glowing fist </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the guys with guns. If they wait, then there will be far fewer enemies to deal with, and the masked dude isn’t killing anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually the guy in the mask does win, despite being severely outnumbered and unarmed. He and the last conscious guy exchange a few words before the sirens are close enough to hear. That’s when the masked man bolts, ducking into an alley and sprinting. Arachnikid does the only thing they can think of. They follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy finally stops running after about four blocks, pulls off the mask, and puts his hood down. He gets take-out and continues. He has a good instinct for losing tails, that’s for sure. Eventually though, he’s alone, and Arachnikid takes the opportunity to drop down behind him. They guy pauses, but doesn’t turn to look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been following me since Mott Street.” He says. It’s not a question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You knew?” They cough. “I mean, yeah. Jesus, how does Spidey manage to sound so cool all the time? Sorry, I was on patrol and then you punched through a truck. I kinda protect this city, so I just want to make sure you and I are on the same page.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They were Golden Tigers.” the man says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that means fuck all to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lucky then. Triad business is way above your paygrade, kid. Let me handle this one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m good with that. I’m more of a muggings and robbery kind of hero, hard pass on the gang wars.” Arachnikid says. “What do I call you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man turns around, and Arachnikid does a double take. This guy looks a whole lot like Danny Rand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Iron Fist.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like an innuendo, not gonna lie.” They say, before they can stop and think about how rude it sounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iron Fist laughs. “It’s not a name, it’s a title. You should get going before someone sees and assumes we’re working together. The triad doesn’t take hostages.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he’s gone, walking away and vanishing into the crowd at the end of the alley. Arachnikid does the same, or at least tries. They aim their web shooter and press the trigger, but all they get is a click and then a hissing noise. The thing is jammed again. Maybe if they run into Spiderman they can ask for his blueprints, or his formula. It’s a fat chance, but the worst he can do is say no.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of the vigilantes in New York have their own territory, sort of. Daredevil and Jessica Jones look after Hell’s Kitchen, Luke Cage takes care of Harlem, and Iron Fist (who is actually Rand, as Frankie learned) protects Chinatown. Spidey and Arachnikid take Queens and Brooklyn respectively (though the boundaries are blurred due to the web slinging). And Castle does whatever he wants apparently. Last Frankie heard, the dude was in Texas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, none of the boundaries are set in stone. If someone’s problem wanders out of bounds, it’s common courtesy to have them deal with it instead. Frankie isn’t gonna let Rhino raze Harlem just because it’s not their area. It’s just one of those unspoken rules.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So of course, Arachnikid gets a little concerned when they spot Iron Fist while they’re out patrolling Brooklyn. Other than the Midland Circle Incident, they guy usually deals with the underground crimes that all the cops pretend don’t exist. So him being here in Brooklyn means there’s probably some nonsense going on in their borough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s strange to see you here, Iron Fist.” They call out, swinging down to land on the lamp-post above him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles. “Yeah, just the usual triad business. With the Hand gone, the others are getting ballsy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough. Just make sure you clean up after, yeah? Every time something bad happens in Brooklyn the blame gets pinned on me. Castle and I had to have some words after he murdered a dozen Mexican Cartel members in my neighborhood. I yelled at him for like ten minutes. It was terrifying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You yelled at that psychopath?” Danny says, incredulous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once you get to know him he’s less scary, though still very murderous. Pretty sure half the reason he murdered the Dogs of Hell is because they were mean to Max. Frank took ownership of him after that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think I’ll keep my distance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you wanna ask for his help?” They joke. “The man took down half the big players in the city. I don’t like his methods but they work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny shakes his head. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on the murder spree. I appreciate the tip though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough. I’m not a fan of it either. Good luck with your Triad business though. I gotta motor before my dads get on my ass about curfew. Later!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Night!” Danny calls after them, but Arachnikid is already a block away. He can’t help but notice how familiar the kid’s moves look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s something to be said about vigilantes stumbling across other injured vigilantes and immediately becoming super unreasonable about it. Except this time Arachnikid is way less injured than the time Castle found them, and they’re in Chinatown. Getting to Claire’s is going to be a real pain. It’s not even that bad, just a couple of small cuts and a twisted knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arachnikid?” Someone calls out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sigh deeply and turn around. “Hey man. Nice night, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny raises an eyebrow, possibly. It’s hard to tell now that he’s switched to an over the eye mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid sighs again. “Look, I’m fine. I was just dealing with some of Vulture’s ex-goons. I’m going home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fat chance. Just come to my place for a little. I have a first aid kit and some stuff for that sprained knee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stumble over their words, searching for an excuse. “S-sprained?! No it’s just twisted, and I heal fast. I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t fool yourself. I know a sprain when I see one. Seriously, I live like five minutes from here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arachnikid groans in defeat. “Fine, fine. But gimme a shoulder. If you’re offering I’m not gonna walk there on my own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iron Fist chuckles, pulling their arm around his shoulders. It’s much less humiliating than that time that Castle literally carried them through the streets to his place. They say as much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like, what, under his arm?” Iron Fist asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, he looks taller than he is. Asshole put me in a fireman’s carry with a chest wound. I tell you, the guy has no bedside manner. Though he did let me pass out on his sofa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well hopefully you won’t pass out. You probably won’t even need stitches.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank the gods.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny stops to unlock the door, tucked in a back alley away from prying eyes, and then they slowly make their way up the stairs. Emphasis on ‘slowly’ because now that the adrenaline has worn off their knee is stiff and hurts like a bitch. The hospitality is nice, but Frankie kinda wished this guy lived on the ground floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take a seat at the table. My girlfriend hates when I get blood on the sofa.” He says, throwing his mask on the table and heading to the bathroom, probably for the first aid kit. Frankie does as they’re told and pulls off the mask. It only seems fair since Danny’s identity is the worst kept secret ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny comes out of the bathroom, kit in hand and pauses. “You’re younger than I expected.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The voice throws people off. Save the protective lecture. I’ve gotten it enough times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs. “You’re what, sixteen? When I was your age the monks were teaching me to endure extreme pain. I don’t have much room to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He holds up the kit expectantly and Frankie sighs, hitting the release on the suit and carefully peeling it away from their wounds. The bleeding has pretty much stopped, but they still look gnarly. Also, they can see their knee swelling through their suit, which is so not good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not the best first-aid they’ve received, but Danny sterilizes the wounds and tapes gauze over the ones that are still bleeding, and butterfly bandages the deepest of them. Apparently every shady New Yorker has a knife these days, and Frankie’s not much good at dodging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the last wound is covered Danny sits back. “What about your knee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie laughs nervously. “I’m sure you’re an upstanding guy, but I’m sixteen. There’s no way I’m taking my pants off in front of you. If you give me an ace wrap though, I should be fine to make it home.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny shrugs and hands them wrap and some acetaminophen. Painkillers have been kind of hit or miss since the bite, but they’ll give it a go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t mention it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nice part of web swinging is that they can mostly avoid using their bad leg to get back to their dorm. Hopefully the healing factor can make their knee functional by tomorrow morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After it’s all wrapped up and Frankie has pulled the suit back on, they stand and nod to Danny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind if I use your window?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. Stay safe out there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not really in my control, but I appreciate the thought, Rand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rand, what—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on. Your face is plastered all over the internet, just because you manage to blend in with that moving company doesn’t mean you’re Clark Kent. I knew it was you the night you punched out that truck’s engine. Also, I remember you from months ago at the park while you were homeless. It’s a miracle because I never remember anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re that parkour kid.” Danny says simply. “I knew those moves looked familiar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The one and only.” Frankie says, pulling on their mask and swinging a leg over the windowsill.  “But uh… keep that to yourself, yeah? Can’t have my family at risk because someone leaked that kind of info to my enemies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem, Frannie…?” He guesses</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankie, actually. Later dude!” And then they’re gone, shooting out a web and dropping into the arc of a swing, notably holding their right leg awkwardly straight at the knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie doesn’t run into Danny all that often, despite how small the city may sometimes seem. Danny, as Iron Fist, flies mostly off the radar. Not even the Bugle seems to know or care what he’s doing. Manhattan has a strangely high number of vigilantes (four), so unless one of their enemies starts causing trouble, Arachnikid sticks to Queens and Brooklyn. (Villainy never seems to occur in the Bronx, so far as anyone can tell.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They do run into him once in Central Park though. Arachnikid sometimes stops by to do some tricks for the kids there, to make them smile, and to endear Arachnikid to the general population. Danny is there, dressed down and sans mask doing… yoga? It doesn’t look like yoga but the slow controlled movements are something they’re familiar with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Long time no see, Danny.” they chime, bending their knees to hang upside down from a tree branch. They could just stick, or dangle from a webline, but some things just feel more natural.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arachnikid.” He says, not opening his eyes or looking up until he brings himself back to center.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say, I’ve been wondering for a while. That glowy hand thing you got. How’d you come by that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Danny tucks his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt and straightens his elbows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I mean, everyone who has powers gets them somehow. Cap got experimented on, Daredevil got some weird chemicals spilled on him. That kind of thing. So what’s your story? If you don’t mind me asking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, when the previous Iron Fist died, I won in combat against all my brothers at the monastery for the chance to earn the title. Then I fought Shao-Lao the Undying and he gave me a portion of his power. That’s the Iron Fist.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Shao-Lao is…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A dragon.” Danny says, like it should be obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very interesting.” Frankie hums, dropping from the tree to seat themself on the back of a park bench. Dragons aren't the strangest thing they’ve heard these days, though it does raise some interesting questions about their Path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Arachnikid says, snapping out of their thoughts. Danny’s sitting on the bench now, on the seat like a normal person. Lame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you get yours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” They laugh. “Funny story. I broke into an abandoned Oscorp facility to get some pictures for my late girlfriend, and a radioactive spider bit me. So now I’ve got the proportional strength, I stick to walls, and I glow in the dark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never got through grade five, but I feel like that last one isn’t a spider thing.” He jokes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a radioactive thing then.” Frankie shoots back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The conversation lapses again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen.” They say after a moment. “Adrien Toomes just got released on parole. The guy who stole that plane? Keep an ear out for me will you? If he pulls something I don’t want to be the last one to know. Last time he dropped a building on my best friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you track me here just for that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, just convenient. I stop by sometimes to show off for the kids here. You might try fan service sometime, Rand. People will trust you more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny snorts. “Alright, get out of here. I know for a fact you’re supposed to be in class right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s only a study hall!” Arachnikid protests</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and you’re not even in the right borough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They groan. “It’s like I have three dads now, since you’re too much of a goodie-two-shoes to be a murder uncle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t give him time to reply before they shoot out a webline, swinging away with no more than a wave.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was gonna be longer, but honestly, Danny is so boring. Matt and Frank are fun because they go absolutely feral and are steeped in trauma.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Murder Uncle (Helluva Kid)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This has some pretty wicked violence, I think, so read the notes at the end for warnings (with spoilers)</p><p>A look into the uncle-nibling relationship that these two have. (ft. Frankie being a witty asshole)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You know that all black getup makes you look </span>
  <em>
    <span>super </span>
  </em>
  <span>suspicious, right?” Frankie asks, sliding into the booth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle startles, clenching his jaw. “How’d you find me, kid? I’ve been out of state for weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now you’re back. Honestly I wasn’t looking. I’m on my way back home for break and sometimes I stop here for some food. I saw you in the window and figured I’d stop and say ‘hey.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s just a coincidence then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or the Fates themselves have tied me to you. Doesn’t really matter. I’m just happy to see my favorite murder uncle.” They say, and Castle shoots them a look that clearly means </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘shut the fuck up.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s so paranoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I get you two?” The waitress asks, sidling up to the table. She’s an older woman who seems to enjoy her job, if her kind smile is any indication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three eggs, over easy, sourdough toast, and a side of bacon.” Castle says evenly, handing the waitress his menu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And for you young…” She trails off awkwardly. That never gets old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take the blueberry pancakes, please. And a glass of orange juice.” They say, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alrighty, I’ll have that right out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waitress takes the menu from Frankie’s hand and heads back towards the kitchen. What a nice woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll ruin an undercover job doing that shit.” Castle says, once she’s out of earshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, being nice? Sure, but I’m not undercover and food service workers deal with enough bullshit. It’s nice to make them feel appreciated, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makes you stick out. It’ll get you killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll die remembered as that nice kid who was polite to waitresses, and you’ll die remembered as an asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle scoffs fondly. “Smartass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why people love me.” Frankie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation lapses into silence as Castle gazes out the window. People watching or lookout, Frankie can’t tell. What’s the saying again? ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You can take the man out of the war, but you can’t take the war out of the man.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Castle is the epitome of a man at war. Frankie is not, nor are they so easily occupied, so they pull out their phone and scroll through social media. Castle clearly disapproves of their inattention to their surroundings, but he huffs amicably at the memes Frankie shows him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the food arrives Castle eats like a machine. He bends over his plate and shovels large bites into his mouth, scooping up the next one before he’s even started chewing. It makes sense that a Marine would be trained to eat efficiently and quickly, he’d be less vulnerable that way. Still, it’s a little sad. The food here is good and Castle’s barely tasting it. Frankie doesn’t mention it though, they just cut their pancakes with the side of their fork and continue scrolling. Castle finishes his meal and goes back to gazing out the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s such a strange guy, but he pays for Frankie’s food (against their wishes), so they’re not complaining. Strange guys like him make New York home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie carries around the Vigilante Helpline™ phone for months without really using it to call anyone except Claire. Long enough that they eventually have to charge it, but the limited two hundred minutes aren’t going to run out any time soon. No one really calls Frankie either for that matter, except the one time that Danny needed information on a Brooklyn crime family that was making some trouble with the Golden Tigers. And that’s it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except now Arachnikid is kind of in over their head. The gang they were stealthily webbing up one at a time caught on and suddenly were very trigger happy. Arachnikid has a dime sized hole in their thigh to show for it. They broke some of the lights to make it harder for the gang members to see them, but it doesn’t matter if they can’t stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>glowing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not to mention the trail of blood they’re leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid ducks behind a large shipping crate, fumbling for the bulky phone tucked in the pocket at the small of their back. Thankfully they don’t drop it, that would give them away quicker than anything else. Frankie dials the first number they see and puts the phone to their ear, fingers crossed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castiglione.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh thank the gods.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a bit overwhelmed, I need your help.” They whisper. “Warehouse on fifty-fourth. Hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shut the phone without waiting for a response, flinching at the loud click it makes. Thankfully none of the enemies seem to have heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karen, bandage webs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Affirmative.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid bites their tongue against the sting as they web up the bullethole in their thigh. They can’t stay hidden if their wounds leave a trail right to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come out little spider!” the leader shouts, far too close to where Arachnikid is hiding. “So I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>crush </span>
  </em>
  <span>you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They jolt into motion, crouching lower and sneaking away from the violent gang leader. Why couldn’t it have been Doc Ock? They really need backup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, backup comes just a few minutes later in the form of loud and rapid gunfire from the far side of the warehouse. It’s followed, of course, by alarmed shouts of  </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘The Punisher!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid takes it as their cue, retaking their perch in the rafters to web assorted assholes to various surfaces. Castle is basically surrounded, but as long as they keep more from joining the fray, he’s got this handled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Arachnikid fastens the last of the stragglers to a support beam, Castle has moved into the maze of the shipping crates. He’s down to his handgun, and the guy shooting at him is similarly burdened. It’s only a matter of time before one of them runs out of ammo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the same time someone is coming up on Castle’s six, younger than the rest of the members. Inexperienced and scared. Castle doesn’t even notice him, which is bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid makes their decision, dropping down at Castle’s back and shooting out a webline. They catch the kid’s gun and yank it right out of his hands, swinging it in a wide arc and cracking it down on his head. The kid goes down like a sack of potatoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle takes advantage of the minor distraction to get a lucky shot in, tearing through the leader’s knee. Frankie appreciates the mostly non-lethal shots that Castle’s been taking, not that the Bugle will notice or care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader goes down, dropping his gun to clutch at his knee, which looks disgusting and really painful. Frankie webs the gun to the ground  and then punches the guy out cold. The medical webs really do come in handy where Castle is involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I oughtta give you more credit, kid. Those webs are something else.” Castle says, eyeing the kid who had almost shot him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t use them if they didn’t work.” Arachnikid says smugly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think they’re stupid, but you had my back. Good job.” Castle pats the top of their mask as if he were ruffling the hair underneath. Frankie glows under the praise, literally. Their skin starts to glow through the one way panels on their suit, and it’s very obvious in the dim light of the warehouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glowing? Yeah. Perks of being radioactive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle nods, turning to collect his weapons from where they’d been dropped in the fire fight. He’s halfway out the door when he pauses. “You’re welcome for the assist, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie calls out their thanks, but he’s already gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karen, call in an anonymous tip to the NYPD. Tell them to bring ambulances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already done, Frankie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, then let’s go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie and Castle are close. Maybe because Frankie is clingy, or because Castle has a soft spot for anyone under the age of twenty (and dogs). Frankie would say that they’re friends. (Castle would say he doesn’t have friends).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of Frankie’s fathers are only children, so Castle is what they imagine having an Uncle is like. Sort of like a dad, but less responsible (and more violent).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The point is, despite how close they are, they don’t work together that often, for obvious reasons. Also, their fathers don’t really approve of their kid befriending a man who has killed hundreds of people, especially their dad. Generally, when Arachnikid teams up with the Punisher it’s because they personally ask for his help, or the Fates put them in the same place. This time it’s the latter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>See, Arachnikid is at the pier because there are rumors of Phineas Mason importing some tech from the Sokovia incident. Some real high grade Stark Tech with an Ultron kick. Castle is at the pier because Mason hired third party security, the Russian Mafia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phineas Mason isn’t a threat on his own, but the shit he creates sure is.  So they’re working together and Castle is taking non-lethal shots like he always does with Arachnikid. (Even though they both know they’ll all die later by his hand, far away from any association with the young vigilante.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things are going great, really.  Putting Arachnikid and the Punisher against a couple dozen Russian gangsters is kind of unfair. Things are going great. That is, until Castle gets fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>shot. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Castle gets shot quite frequently, and beaten, and stabbed. Normally it’s not an issue,  but several things happen all at once. 1) Arachnikid isn’t listening to their spidey-sense because in situations like this it’s not helpful. 2) Castle see’s the guy with a shotgun. Frankie does not. 3) Castle’s gun clicks, empty, when he tries to shoot the guy. 4) Castle yells, outraged, and punches the guy. 5) The gun goes off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all happens within seconds and then Castle goes down screaming. To his credit, he keeps his head on, and fucks as much shit up as he can with a large chunk of his thigh torn to shreds. The wound is bleeding profusely but neither of them can do anything about it without earning another dozen holes for their efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the last mafia member goes down after Arachnikid drives their fist into his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good Castle?” Arachnikid calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just peachy.” He grunts through clenched teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah sure— Gods, what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you doing?!” They yelp, upon turning to see the guy struggling to stand, using the wall as support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You plan on sticking around and waiting to get arrested?” He bites back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie rolls their eyes, not that Castle can see. “Sit back down you moron. You need a tourniquet if we’re going to get anywhere. What were you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they rant they push him back to the ground, grimacing at the gory mess of the wound. Frankie has a strong stomach, but this really is testing their limits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karen, I need some tape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the settings adjusted their web shooters produce a wide strip of webbing. Castle is getting paler by the second, Frankie needs to pick up the pace. They tie the webbing as tight as a normal person can stand. There’s no way Claire can fix this. Castle needs to go to a real hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not walking anywhere on this. I’m gonna have to carry you out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid, no—” He says, slurring slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dammit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I literally stopped a runaway bus two days ago. Don’t be proud. It’ll be just like the time I had that chest wound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle blinks sluggishly, not responding, and then he passes out. That is very much not good, because if there’s one thing Castle is good at, it’s taking a hit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karen, call the tip line and get me the fastest route to the nearest hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might I recommend removing Mr. Castle’s vest and changing your own clothes to cause less suspicion at the hospital.” The AI suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I have time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have approximately twenty minutes before damage becomes irreversible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking shit. Okay.” Arachikid replies, using their strength to get the armor off as quickly as possible and pulling him into a fireman’s carry, just like he’d done for them years ago. He’s not heavy, but it is awkward. The guy has a lot of bulk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Web slinging is even more difficult, but it’s faster than anything else, and fast will make the difference between life and death. Frankie hates themself for not having a better clothing solution, but they stop a couple buildings down from the hospital, pulling stolen clothes over their suit. They drag him the last block on foot, pretending to be a normal person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somebody help!” They yell, the moment they’re inside the door. “My uncle! He’s been shot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It works just like in the movies. Nurses come running, gurney in tow, and lift Castle from their arms. Then come the crocodile tears, which isn’t hard. Castle is pretty much family and he just took a gunshot for them. They’re very upset and worried, no acting necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mx, I’m going to need you to tell me what happened.” One nurse says, pushing Frankie down into a nearby chair as the others rush Castle through the doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were just coming back from dinner and some guy— He told us to give him out wallets. My uncle— my uncle is ex-military so he— he punched the guy. The gun went off and he ran.” Frankie hiccups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurse shushes them gently. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll get your uncle patched up. Do you think you could give me some information while we wait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. What’s your uncle’s name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Frank, uh, Francis Clark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Frankie is done dodging questions, ‘forgetting,’ and being as vague as possible, the nurse sends them to the waiting room. They know Castle’s probably going to be fine, he’s nothing if not stubborn, but still. The only thing keeping them from biting their nails down to the bed is all the blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie hates waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hours until the guy is out of emergency surgery and Frankie is allowed to go sit in the room and wait some more. Eventually, they get sick of waiting and decide to go wash their hands in the nearest bathroom. The rest of their body is still caked in blood, but it’s better than nothing. Of course, their timing is perfect and they miss Castle waking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get back to the room to see he’s pushed himself upright, looking around apprehensively. He looks like absolute shit, the pale hospital gown and harsh lights washing out his complexion on top of the blood loss. He sways dangerously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are we in a hospital? Why aren’t I handcuffed?” He growls</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re Frank Clark. You’re my uncle on my Pa’s side and my namesake. You were shot when you tried to play hero while we were being mugged. Arachnikid applied a tourniquet and went after the guy and I brought you to the hospital.” They say firmly, pushing him back into the bed. “It helps that I ditched our gear. Sorry ‘bout your guns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and looking at the hospital gown with disdain. “Alright. Jesus, kid. Run the cover by me. I don’t wanna get any details wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie rolls their eyes. “Yeah okay, but if you take a shot for me again I’ll kill you myself, jackass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie knows that Castle murders people. Everyone knows that the Punisher is the most extreme kind of vigilante, and his solutions are the permanent type. His kill count is in the hundreds just on US soil. Gods only know how many people he’s killed in other places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie knows that the title of murder uncle is super on the nose, but they try not to think about it. He’s never violent towards Frankie and he’s done his best to avoid committing such crimes in front of them. He’s a good man, in that sense. He tries not to traumatize young people, though Frankie’s sure Amy would (somewhat jokingly) claim otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when you’ve been doing the vigilante thing for any amount of time, you learn, no matter how hard you fight, some things are out of your control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lot of Frankie’s thoughts are occupied by running scenarios and solutions for things they may face in the field. Same way most people have imaginary arguments in the shower. Still, despite their best efforts, they never had a plan for this. They have no strategy for being locked in a chamber that’s slowly filling with Halothane, according to Karen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid may have a wicked fast metabolism, but sooner or later they will be knocked out. The Iron-Spider suits have filtration and a closed air system. This one does not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karen, engage Masquerade Protocol and send location data to my nearest contact.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sending location data to Francis Castle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Masquerade Protocol was Frankie’s own idea after a few too many villains nearly ripped their mask off. It’s simple really, engaging a locking mechanism at the edge of the mask and activating just enough nano-particles to keep the fabric from being damaged by any normal knife. Unfortunately it only locks the mask. The rest of the suit can still be torn to ribbons with a sharp enough rock. It also, regrettably, makes it a bit harder to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lock Masquerade and begin EMP shutdown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The AI does as it’s told, mask feeling tight and stiff to the point it’s hard to talk. Then the HUD goes dark followed quickly by their own vision. This is not going to be good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid wakes up sometime later, shackled to a modified dentist chair that’s bolted to the concrete floor. Whoever did this is smart. The Halothane leaves them feeling weak and woozy, even with how quickly they’re metabolizing the last of it. Even at full strength Arachnikid isn’t sure they’d be able to muscle their way out of chains this heavy. Not to mention, their web shooters are missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, finally the little spider awakens.” Someone says, voice heavily accented. Russian maybe? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are they always Russian?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You give this five-star treatment to all your prisoners, or am I just that handsome?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A door screeches open behind them, followed by heavy footfalls. Arachnikid looks straight ahead, trying to maintain at least a facade of fearlessness. The man finally steps into their line of sight. Frankie doesn’t recognize him, but he’s a scary looking motherfucker. He’s missing an eye, he’s scruffy, and his blonde hair is stringy and unwashed. He’s not huge but he’s got plenty of wiry muscles under his white wife beater. Gods, what a stereotype.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A sense of humor. I like that.” He says, grinning. His teeth are as crooked and decayed as his intentions. “Not to worry. We’ll rid you of that soon enough. Same as that mask of yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid tries not to let their irritation show. Villain monologues buy time, so the longer this guy rambles the better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is clever trick. Your Masquerade. You are a clever, clever spider.” He says, one sweaty, slimy hand rising to pat them on the cheek. Arachnikid jerks away. This guy is a fucking creep and they are completely helpless. It’s terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>do you want?” They finally snap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy slaps them before dropping his hand. It doesn’t hurt but it’s humiliating. “So rude, little spider. Give me what I want and things will go well for you. Refuse, and my large friend will not treat you with kindness I have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stubbornly, Arachnikid doesn’t respond, staring squarely at the wall behind the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, tell me. The plans for the arc reactor. Where are they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid almost wishes they weren’t wearing the mask so they could spit in this guy’s face. They tell him as much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. Well then I have no choice.” He glances over their head to the open door. “Dimitri. Make the little spider sing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footfalls even heavier than before enter the room. Dimitri looks to be about six-foot four with muscles to rival Captain America. Some two-hundred pounds of pure misery for Arachnikid. Fuck, Castle better get here quick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slimy guy leaves, shutting the door with a loud bang. Arachnikid is alone with Dimitri, who doesn’t say a word. He’s not a talker, but his right hook makes their head spin. As does his left hook, and his uppercut. Arachnikid is completely at his mercy, with no knowledge or experience on how to endure tourture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They almost give it all up when Dimitri lands a blow that dislocates their shoulder with an audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘pop.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Masquerade makes their mask so tight they have to swallow the blood that pools in their mouth, and without their HUD they have know way of knowing how much time passes under Dimitri’s fists. They can hardly breathe, but without Karen online, deactivating Masquerade is both impossible and unwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst part is, Arachnikid doesn’t know a thing about the arc reactor plans, Spiderman would, but it’s not like the guy would believe him. Also, Frankie would be a moron to just paste a target like that on Peter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After some time, Dimitri leaves and the greasy guy returns, looking like the cat who got the canary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready to talk, little spider?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, asshole. I ain’t telling you shit.” They growl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile falls, replaced with anger. He steps out of their line of sight to tug harshly on the chain. Pain lances up their arm as their dislocated shoulder is pulled farther out of place. Arachnikid can’t help but scream, vision whiting out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a stubborn thing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arachnikid.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He spits their alias like a curse, uncomfortably close to their ear. “Your wit is gone. Your resolve will follow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid wracks their brain for some quip, just to prove this asshole wrong, just to piss him off, when there are gunshots from outside the room. Fast and loud, and right on time. Frankie cackles, just a bit hysterical. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man.” They giggle. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>so fucked.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man roars, spinning the chair around so they’re face to face. He pulls a revolver from the back of his pants and plants the muzzle right between the large white eyes of their mask, expression furious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this is funny? Like joke?!” He demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid freezes. He hasn’t pulled back the hammer, but they can see it in his eyes. It’s not a bluff. He will shoot them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is coming?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arachnikid doesn’t say anything, doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The slimeball pulls back the hammer and presses the gun harder between their eyes. Masquerade can stop a knife, but without Karen to adjust the nano-particles the bullet will tear through it like tissue paper. Then it’s bye-bye for Frankie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is coming?!” He demands again, louder than the first time. The gunshots continue outside, slower, but closer. Arachnikid just needs to buy another thirty seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHO DID YOU CALL—?” The man doesn’t finish, cut off by the loud bang of a gunshot from the open doorway behind him. Blood and brain matter spray across the white surface of Frankie’s mask, and the man crumples like a puppet cut from his strings.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Castle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Frankie’s never been so relieved to see that terrifying vest, white skull stained red. The moment the guy drops dead he holsters his gun, stepping over the corpse to crouch at eye level with Arachnikid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m late. You alive under there, kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please get me out of here.” They beg, quiet as a mouse. They might be going into shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you. Don’t worry.” He says, patting their good shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie watches him dig through the dead man’s pockets for the keys, and undo the shackles with calm efficiency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta fix that shoulder before we can go anywhere. You good with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nod absently, watching the blood drip down the outside of their lenses like rain on a windshield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. On three.” Predictably, Castle doesn’t wait until three, doesn’t even get to ‘two’ before he snaps the joint back into place. Arachnikid screams, again, and then promptly blacks out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie wakes up an unknown amount of time later on a familiar couch, sans mask, and covered by a rough but warm wool blanket. The suit’s heater is also on, the warmth at odds with the bag of ice balanced on their shoulder. Their whole body feels like it was put through a laundry wringer, particularly their face. That makes sense, considering how many times that Dimitri guy slammed his fist into it. It’s a wonder their eyes aren’t swollen shut. Speaking of, where is their mask? There’s no way Castle has the tools to blunt-force his way past the Masquerade Protocol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castle?” They call out, leaning on their good arm to sit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Behind ya, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie startles, whirling around. Castle’s changed out of his gear into normal clothes and he’s got a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you get my mask off?” They ask dumbly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Called the Spider-Boy. He walked me through the EMP shit and overrode the mask stuff from his end. Figured you’d rather not wake up with someone else’s blood on your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie nods, tossing the bag of ice on the coffee table and wrapping the blanket around themself. They curl up, pressing their back into the corner of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Castle says after a moment. It’s like he can tell that Frankie’s mind is replaying that one moment over and over and over. The blood feeling hot and sticky even through their mask. Their stomach turns at the memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather have some extra trauma than a hole in my head” They say finally. They tack on a belated ‘sorry’ when they remember Castle’s own history.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re alive, Frankie.” He says, and Frankie’s pretty sure that’s the first time Castle’s used their name. Not ‘kid,’ not ‘idiot.’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>Frankie.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They both go quiet for a moment, Castle seating himself on the opposite end of the sofa. He’s got his brow furrowed in thought. People often assume he’s all muscle, all guns, all fight, but they’re wrong. He’s always thinking and planning. He wouldn’t be alive if he wasn’t smart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie is grateful that Castle saved their life, but they can’t get their head to stop playing those moments over and over. The man’s creepy smile and grimy hands, and the smell of his breath as he pressed the barrel to their forehead. The feeling of Dimitri’s fists slamming into their face, again and again. The bang of Castle’s gun and the contents of that man’s head splattering across their face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was really scary.” Frankie chokes out after a minute, eyes burning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come ‘ere, kid.” Castle says, holding out an arm and gesturing. Frankie does as they’re told, letting him hug them tight, careful of the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dam breaks and Frankie cries, quiet and shaking, into their hands. Castle is not well versed in comforting people, but he tries, rubbing a hand up and down their back and shushing them gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distantly, Frankie feels a bit guilty. Like they’re betraying their fathers by getting comfort from Castle. It’s stupid but it’s true. Frankie’s Dad and Pa raised them, paid for their top surgery and their education. It feels like they should have exclusive rights to comfort them. But neither of their fathers know what this is like. Being a hero is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Castle? He gets it. He knows there’s no way to fix this kind of thing and he doesn’t try. He’s just… there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s over, kid. It’s done. You’re safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve— I’ve had guns pointed at me— I’ve been shot, even.. But gods above, I really almost died— he almost killed me.” Frankie hiccups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle just shakes his head, hugging them tighter. “But he didn’t. You’re safe. I even had Lieberman run the guys who took you through the system. He was alone. There’s no one left to try it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie laughs humorlessly. “I’ve been at this gig for years now. I’m twenty-three now, and after all the shit I’ve been through </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what has me in pieces? What a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was some scary shit, Frankie. Don’t beat yourself up for reacting to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sniffle, wiping their eyes with the heels of their hands, and extract themself from Castle’s arms. He gives nice hugs. “We’ve known each other for years, and I think that’s only the second time you’ve used my name, like ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember the first time you slept on my couch, you said you wouldn’t call me Frank? You said you called dibs or some shit like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie nods, brows furrowed at the sudden trip down memory lane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Francis was my son’s name too. It got confusing of course, so we called him Frankie.” He says solemnly. “You remind me of him sometimes, but the name really does it. Maybe that’s why I let you stick around all this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankie had no idea. They probably could have learned, but it felt beyond rude to pry into a past like that. Plus, the less they know, the easier it is to ignore all the shady things he does as a means to an end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” They say quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. I guess it kinda feels like I’m stealing his spot while I have two perfectly alive fathers back home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ain’t stealin’ shit, kid. He’s got his spot, and you’ve got yours.” Castle says it with such finality that Frankie can’t formulate a response. He hands them a bottle of water, which they take and down half of it in one go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” They say finally. “For saving my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're a helluva kid, Frankie. I got your six, come hell or high water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or slimy Russian assholes.” Frankie jests. They run a hand through their hair and wince when it snags and comes away flaked with red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a shower kid. I’ll find you something to wear. I think Amy might have left some things behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate it… Frank.” They smile conspiratorially.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle chuckles in disbelief, shoving them lightly. “You’re a god damned punk, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try my best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castle rolls his eyes. “Shower, kid. You stink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. Things are going to be okay.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Warnings:<br/>Frank takes a shotgun blast to the thigh to protect Frankie.<br/>Frankie is taken hostage and is tortured (beaten) for information. Frank rescues them, and in the process murders the person threatening to kill Arachnikid while they watch, because there's no other option.</p><p>I really went all out. This pushes the fic over 30k words, which is crazy! The google doc for this story is almost /ninety/ (90) pages long, and knowing me, it will get there really soon.</p><p>me @ myself: You do not want to be a marine, you just think that Castle is cool. You're just hyperfixating. I stg your mama did not raise no bullet catchers, so don't even think about it.</p><p>If you enjoyed, please leave a comment telling me your favorite part, this chapter is full of really sick lines that I'm quite proud of. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. I got your six, Peter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Somehow, even when I'm writing about Peter, the story ends up being about Castle. </p>
<p>I am a joke, and apparently I have daddy issues. Too bad I'm ace-spec so they can't make me sexy, I'm just funny. (I hope)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Here's the art if you missed it!<br/><a href="https://mirko-simp.tumblr.com/post/636440842287136768/heres-another-arachnikid-piece-i-did-that-im">Here's one!</a><br/><a href="https://mirko-simp.tumblr.com/post/636440504540807168/so-heres-my-spidersona-arachnikid-you-can-read">Here's two!</a><br/><a href="https://mirko-simp.tumblr.com/post/636410403411394560/i-drew-the-top-one-back-in-2018-and-the-bottom-one">Here's the third!</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frankie’s pretty sure that the first few days following the Blip are the easiest part of the aftermath. Everyone is so busy fixing things and celebrating that it’s easy to forget how fucked up things are, how many bad things happened not even that long ago. As time passes more problems will arise for everyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even after weeks have passed, things are still up in the air for the people who got brought back. May takes the hide-away in the living room, and Peter sleeps on an air mattress next to Frankie’s bed. When the government took possession of all the Blipped victims’ assets (that weren’t claimed by the families), they definitely weren’t planning on having to return them. They had no reason to believe that suddenly, billions of people would want their money and their stuff back. Not to mention a place to live.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter hasn’t been sleeping well, and Spiderman hasn’t yet returned to his place patrolling in the city. (Arachnikid does, just so the kid doesn’t feel like the city is defenseless.) He’s too shaken. After all he’s been through it doesn’t come as a surprise. Frankie can hear him tossing and turning late at night, can see the dark shadows under his eyes and the bone-deep exhaustion that weighs him down like Atlas carrying the world. He looks like Frankie did, back when the Blip first took everyone. He looks haunted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, as all things must, it comes to a head. It’s late at night and Frankie hasn’t slept yet, a natural night owl, scrolling through social media feeds on their phone and getting pissed when it’s nothing but talk about the Blip. The intentions of all the ‘how to help’ posts are nice, but all they do is make Frankie feel bad for not doing enough. Although they aren’t sure exactly what “enough” means.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They scroll past another well thought out graphic when Peter’s breathing picks up suddenly. Frankie frowns and flicks on their string lights, casting the room in a soft, warm light that doesn’t suit the mood at all. Peter is thrashing, kicking off the blankets and mumbling in his sleep. Nightmares, and as bad as Frankie’s seen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter— Bro, you gotta wake up.” They whisper. “It’s just a dream, Queens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter doesn’t react, and Frankie can see his eyes darting wildly behind his eyelids. He mumbles something that sounds like ‘Mr. Stark, please’ and Frankie’s heart breaks for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reach out and shake his shoulder. “Peter! C’mon, man. Wake up. It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That does it. Peter bolts awake with a gasp and a death grip on Frankie’s wrist. His eyes are wild and scared, and Frankie is suddenly stuck by how </span>
  <em>
    <span>young </span>
  </em>
  <span>he is. How young they used to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s just a kid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter.” They say softly. “It’s Frankie. You’re in my dads’ apartment. You’re safe here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter’s eyes are wet. Whatever he was dreaming about did more than just scare him. Frankie throws off the covers and swings their legs over the side of the bed, putting a hand over Peter’s on their other wrist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all over. Thanos is dead. Promise”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, awareness seems to come back to the kid. His grip on Frankie’s wrist loosening and quick breaths turning to hiccuped sobs. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean t— to wake you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t wake me up, Pete. I haven’t slept yet.” They assure him, sitting on the edge of the air mattress so they can pull him into a one-armed hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid falls apart, clinging to Frankie like a lifeline. He babbles apologies between sobs, for all manner of things. Keeping them up, getting snot on their shirt, being weak. Yikes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not weak, man. Not by a longshot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How— How can I be a hero— How can I be Spiderman if I’m not even strong enough to deal with one— one bad dream on my own?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter, I am going to tell you something and it’s going to sound really mean, but I need you to listen. Can you do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are not Spiderman. He is not a person. Peter Parker is a person. You are a sixteen year old kid who just had the rug pulled from under him in all the worst ways. Spiderman is something you do. Peter Parker is who you are. You have to understand that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well if Peter Parker is weak— Spiderman’s not gonna be any different.” Peter says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, I hear you, but since you’ve been gone I’ve gotten better at this wisdom thing. Got my teeth pulled out and everything. So I’m gonna tell you a story, and you’re not allowed to tell Castle that I told you. Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter frowns, but he nods nevertheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know he and I are close, right? And when the Blip happened we got closer because he was just there, you know? He didn’t want to reminisce about dead friends and comrades, and I wanted to ignore that everyone was gone. He became like an uncle to me.” They say. “A very violent and irresponsible uncle, but he’s family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter doesn’t comment, but he’s listening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, one day we run into each other on the hero scene. Things go wrong, the details don’t matter, and we both get dosed with this drug. It was called, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cauchemar, </span>
  </em>
  <span>which is French for ‘Nightmare.’ It was very aptly named. It was a type of hallucinogenic that also stimulated glutamate production, then all that was mixed with a fast-acting sedative. With my metabolism I was lucky. It was a heavy dose, but I was only out for about ten minutes. The hallucinations and fear lasted longer, but I was awake. Castle, though? He’s just a guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Castle? You alive?” Arachnikid grunts, pushing themself up off the floor where they’d fallen. Castle doesn’t respond. They shake their head to dispel the last of the nightmares and look around.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Castle is still on the floor, sprawled on his back and breathing quickly. He’s still out cold, and probably will be for a while.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re completely alone, Francis. No one really cares about you.” A voice says, right next to their ear. It sounds like Paige.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Arachnikid jumps, swinging out an arm and hitting nothing but air. Their heart is pounding in their chest and in their ears.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did you hear that, Karen?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No one has spoken but you, Frankie.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They sigh. “I guess I only metabolized the sedative. The hallucinogen is still doing its thing. That sucks. How long until Castle wakes up?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Unknown. Most likely several hours.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fantastic. That means getting out of here is up to me then.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ended up carrying him out on my shoulders.” Frankie tells Peter, picking at the hole in the knee of their sweats. “I kept hearing Paige’s voice in my ear, or seeing her, wearing our old uniform, and she’d disappear around a corner. She kept telling me that I failed, and that I was a fraud hero, and all the other things that scared me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankie…” Peter says, concerned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shake their head. “Not the point of the story, just wait. So I carry Castle out of there.  He’s still out cold so I take him back home. Back to his absolute shithole of an apartment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That gets a laugh out of Peter, small as it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another twenty minutes pass, and he’s still down for the count. I’ve patched up his wounds the best I can, so I leave him sleeping on the bed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Frankie tapes the end of the gauze down with a sigh, covering the hole in his arm. The bullet they had pulled from it sits in a glass on the nightstand. Honestly, the guy can’t do one mission without gaining two new holes for his troubles.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He only puts up with you. He doesn’t care about you. You’re not his blood, not his kid. You’re just his responsibility.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Frankie grits their teeth and ignores the voice. Castle’s not going to wake up any time soon, so they leave him be. There’s nothing to do but sit around and wait. Maybe they can make something for him to eat when he wakes up. If he’s seeing anything like Frankie did, then he’s gonna be a little spooked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Castle has almost no food ingredients in the apartment, of course. So they improvise, throwing together pasta with what limited canned goods he as. It smells pretty good too.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s practically ready to eat when Frankie hears noise from down the hall. Castle’s finally slept off the last of the sedatibe. They can hear him grunting and the mattress squeaking as he wakes up. Frankie puts the pot on the counter and goes to check on him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As soon as they push the door open Castle pulls a gun from somewhere, bolting upright and aiming it right at Frankie’s face. They freeze, slowly raising their hands.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My spider-sense was  going </span>
  <em>
    <span>nuts, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it never does that around Castle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But he literally kills people. He’s the Punisher.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does yours go off around me? I told you, he’s family. Even though I could hurt you, there’s not a chance in hell I ever would. Same as him.” Frankie sighs, gathering their thoughts from where they’d been derailed. “He’s pointing his gun and my face, and it’s like he was looking right through me.  It’s like he had no clue who I was, other than a threat, and I had no idea what to do. So I stop, I raise my hands, and I open my mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Castle.” Frankie says nervously, still as a statue. “It’s me. It’s Frankie. I’m not gonna hurt you. You know me. You know I don’t lie to you. It’s safe here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Castle doesn’t react. It’s like he’s not even hearing them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We got drugged, man. It was just just a really, really, bad dream. None of it was real.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His hands are shaking, and that’s more than just the glutemate getting his blood pumping. He’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>scared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Actually, genuinely, scared and he’s still holding the gun. He’s still pointing it at Frankie, and at this distance there’s no way he’ll miss, even as his hands shake like crazy. Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Frankie takes a slow breath, hands still raised. There has to be something they can say to get him to calm down, to get him out of his own head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please don’t shoot me, Castle. Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. I know you’re probably scared shitless right now, but I need you to put the gun down. Right now, Frank. Drop it.” They say. “Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Direct commands, it seems, are the key. Frankie can see the moment Castle becomes aware of what’s happening. He locks eyes with Frankie, looks at the gun in his hand, and then back at them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kid?” He asks, voice choked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s me. Please, put the gun down.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His thumb flicks the safety back on, then he drops it like it’s red hot. The gun tumbles out of limp fingers to clatter on the carpet. Frankie lowers their hands slowly, taking a step closer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kid?” He asks again, fists clenching and unclenching where they rest on his thighs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m here. We’re safe. Just take a breath.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Castle’s breath shudders in his chest, and Frankie’s heart aches when they notice that his eyes are wet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve seen Castle rattled a couple times before, but never like that. I’d certainly never seen him cry before.” Frankie says. “To this day I don’t know what he saw, but it really scared him. I was dreaming fucked up shit for ten minutes. He was out for hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus.” Peter comments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Frank’s an emotionally intelligent guy, but I don’t think he realized how much he was carrying around until then. His pain drives him… but whatever he saw, whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>scares him, was too much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh god.” Castle whispers. He’s not looking at Frankie anymore. He’s looking at his hands, still stained with blood. It’s his own blood, but it doesn’t matter. It still makes him panic. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He puts his head in his hands and Frankie can hear his heart still racing, his breath coming too quickly. They have no idea what to do, because for all the years they’ve known him, Castle’s never been anything but a beacon of strength.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly Frankie walks closer, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. They put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down the way he’d done for them numerous times over the years.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let it out, Castle. You’re safe. No one’s dead who wasn’t already.” Frankie says gently.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Castle sniffs, one hand over his mouth now, tears streaming down his face. He’s not scared, anymore, Frankie realizes. At least not exclusively. Castle doesn’t cry when he’s scared, he acts. No, he’s in pain. He’s grieving.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Castle cries quietly, sniffling and shaking. Or maybe he’s just holding back, but Frankie feels helpless. They're not sure what Castle needs that they can give.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>After a bit Frankie’s arm gets tired, stretched out to rub his back, so they hug him. It’s awkward and their leg will cramp in no time, but it’s what Castle needs right now. He’s been there for them, over and over. Now it’s Frankie’s turn to be there for him. They hug him fiercely and don’t let go.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After that I texted my dads. I let ‘em know I’d be on some hero business for a couple of days, that I’d email my professors. I even forged a doctor's note.” Frankie says. “Castle was in a real bad way, emotionally. He made a full pot of coffee at midnight. After seventy-two hours, the only way I could convince him to sleep was to take his glock and keep watch outside his door.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter’s brow furrows. He’s still not getting it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I had left him there, Pete, he would have driven himself into the ground, or buried all that shit again. Frank Castle has been through hell. The pain of it drives him, but sometimes the drive isn’t enough. He gets nightmares, he cries, and sometimes he points a gun at my face because something scares the hell out of him. Even so, he’s one of the strongest people I know. I would never, in a million years, think of him as weak. What makes you any different?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That makes Peter pause, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. He’s not frowning anymore, but he looks lost, caught up in his own head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter, look at me.” Frankie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter does. His eyes are wet, but he’s no longer crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Having weaknesses does not make you weak. Neither does being scared, or being sad, or leaning on the people around you. You’ve been to hell and back, Peter. The fact that you get up every morning makes you so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>strong. Okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, rubbing his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re strong, Peter Parker, and I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. Now c’mere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter has long since extracted himself from Frankie’s arms, but he doesn’t put up a fight. He just lets himself be held. It’s been a long night and eventually he falls asleep on Frankie’s shoulder. It’s nearing three in the morning now, so they lay him back down on the pillows and pull the blanket up to his chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a helluva kid, Pete. I got your six, come hell or high water.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope that last line rings a bell from the last chapter, because I thought it was a super clever way of establishing how Frankie's relationship with Peter post-Blip compares to Castle's relationship with Frankie.<br/>I almost fucked the timeline even more but who cares.</p>
<p>Most importantly, this story is not complete. I'm leaving it at 10 chapters for now, but not abandoning it. (Not until I hit at least 50k)<br/>All the chapter's are just loosely connected stories as is, no big over-arching plotline that ties each story together.</p>
<p>For the next chapter I'm thinking about maybe letting every adult figure in Frankie's life talking about their nibling. I think it'll be interesting to see like the "Matt, what nibling? You're an only child" kind of thing. (and funny)</p>
<p>As always, please leave a kudo if you enjoyed and/or a comment telling me what the best part was. Those things literally mean the world to me. </p>
<p>Edit: The next chapters will be done in a separate story because of how the AO3 word count system works. They will be linked as a series! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave comments if you enjoyed, or if I made any mistakes.</p><p>Kudos make my world go 'round, especially since I haven't posted and OC content before.</p><p>If there's something you'd like to see in this story, comment your ideas, because I'm running dry. (You will get credit for the idea of course)<br/>I love writing content with Frank and Matt.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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